


Mongoose

by Grooot



Series: The Ministry of Snakes [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Humor, Humour, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-03-27 09:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 87,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grooot/pseuds/Grooot
Summary: This work is a prequel to the events of “The Ministry of Snakes” and covers the events discussed between Snape and the Aurors in Australia within “Restoration”.Snape is moving into Hogwarts after being made Headmaster by Voldemort. As the desire to eradicate muggleborn witches and wizards grows, Snape feels compelled to try to assist those about to receive their Hogwarts offer but knows that in doing this, he may expose his true allegiance.





	1. Moving day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CeleryThesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeleryThesis/gifts), [FrancineHibiscus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancineHibiscus/gifts), [gingerbred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerbred/gifts), [MyWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyWitch/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restoration](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541973) by [Grooot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grooot/pseuds/Grooot). 



> So CT talked me into this! Well, it was an easy sell.

“Slytherin sucks!”

Severus stood at the door of his quarters. He sighed. On his desk a small figurine of a lion waggled its arse at him and shouted obscenities about his House. After the initial burst of profanity, it huffed, shook its mane and curled up again on his desk, just as it had every day since Minerva had snuck it in. 

She’d taken the loss of that particular quidditch game against Slytherin very hard, particularly when he’d coloured her hair green without her noticing until Hooch had told her admiringly she was ‘rocking the new do’. The lion had been her little revenge, but Severus had enjoyed it immensely and kept it on his table ever since. It never failed to make him smile, at least, it hadn’t until today. 

Now the lion was a reminder that he wouldn’t have any more late night terrible whiskey with Minerva, or the shared withering looks in the staff room or even the pleasant taunting over quidditch matches. Instead, there would by icy silence and isolation. He looked around his room, at the chess game he and Flitwick would never finish, the terrible smutty book Hooch had thrust into his hands with a wink and the odd, bobbly, woollen beanie Trelawney had given him last winter as she said she’d thought his head might get cold in the dungeons. It was probably the ugliest hat he had ever seen in his life, but it was kindly meant so he’d taken it and put it on top of his foe glass. 

The foe glass was utterly useless now, so crowded it was with an endless shifting procession of enemies. Mostly it was Potter, staring out with accusing eyes with a shifty looking Weasley in the background—Ronald he assumed, that seemed to be Potter’s personal favourite of the menagerie. They obviously weren’t with the Granger girl anymore, as she’d never appeared with them. He briefly wondered if she were dead, but then thought if that were true it would be news amongst the Death Eaters. She may have gone into hiding, and, given her conspicuous absence from the glass, was obviously no longer with the Order or Potter. That was probably a shame, thought Severus, Potter and Weasley could have used someone with more than half a brain. Today the foeglass showed a shadowy but recognisably dour Minerva, she was obviously thinking of him moving into the Headmaster’s quarters. Wonderful.

Severus decided that standing at the doorway doing nothing was just depressing, so he set about shrinking his belongings in preparation for the move. Slughorn was going to take over as head of Slytherin, and Severus had left him a pile of notes regarding academic performance, students in need of extra attention and a variety of other important background details on his charges. He’d left Slughorn some books he’d procured on anxiety, trauma and sleep disorders. He hadn’t quite managed to get his head around the issue plaguing the senior girls, who seemed to suffer from an unusually high level of sleep issues including night terrors and insomnia. 

He’d hypothesised it could be bullying at school, issues at home, academic anxiety, relationship problems but none of those had seemed to be the cause. Well, Severus thought, it was Slughorn’s riddle to solve now. He would no longer have his own terrible sleeping habits disturbed by regular knocks on his door. He’d remembered to also add in a note to Slughorn to make sure the Warming charms on the dormitories were checked regularly, as the older girls appeared to prefer to sleep in practically nothing. Severus didn’t particularly care either way, but he’d tried to impart on them how much less likely they would be to get sick if they would just put on a robe before wandering through the icy dungeons at night. As always, no one listened to him.

Moving in to the Headmasters quarters involved clearing all of Albus’ belongings out. Severus tried to get through it as quick as possible, shrinking and packing, shrinking and packing. He then started enlarging his own items to fill the suddenly barren rooms.

“Feeling at home yet Severus?” asked portrait Albus in a warm voice.

“Oh yes,” replied Severus, not bothering to look up from stacking books on shelves. “It was my lifelong dream to murder someone and then live in their rooms.”

“It wasn’t murder but, was it?” Albus countered. “It was necessary. It was our agreement.”

“If you say so,” said Severus. 

He stood, having finished with unpacking. A House Elf appeared with a dinner tray, shot him a baleful glance then disappeared. Severus looked at the inviting meal, which looked and smelled amazing. He was starving. He frowned. Starving but not stupid. He cast a diagnostic spell over the meal. It was poisoned. He sighed and sat down heavily at the desk. His eyes fell of the bottle of wine Lucius had given him when he left the Manor this morning, bound for Hogwarts. 

“You’ll need this,” Lucius had said with a wink as he’d slipped Severus the bottle. “Careful, it’s expensive.”

Severus lifted the bottle. Well, at least he could have a liquid dinner. He opened the wine and poured a glass. A pair of pale blue eyes briefly flashed quickly across the foeglass. Severus closed his eyes and groaned. He recast the diagnostic. 

Poisoned. 

Of course it was. 

Fucking Lucius. Fucking Elves. 

He leant back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling which Albus had charmed to simulate the night sky. He made a sudden decision. Before he could change his mind he threw off his robe and coat and strode to the Headmaster’s apparation point. Five minutes later he was in a small Chinese restaurant tucked away in a less busy section of central London. He’d been there before a few times and the owners recognised him, smiling. 

He ate dinner, enjoying the fact that people were engaging with him in a vaguely pleasant manner. After he left, he stopped at a Tesco and purchased some ready-meals and other items which he immediately put under stasis and shrunk, and a case of wine, which also was miniaturised and packed away. He sat on a bench for a while, watching people walk past, slightly buzzing from the ale he had drunk with dinner. He wasn’t quite ready to return to the castle. He thought he should feel it was rather ironic that the only people he currently felt relaxed around were muggles, but he just really didn’t feel anything at all. He was bone tired, which worried him, as the real work hadn’t even started yet.

When he returned to Hogwarts he made his way automatically to the dungeons before suddenly remembering he didn’t live there anymore. He slowly trod up towards the Headmaster lodgings. The meal and wine were still there. Severus stood there, looking at both for a while. He Vanished most of the meal, then played with the rest using the cutlery. When he decided it looked dissected enough he summoned an Elf. They looked at the remains of the meal and back at Severus.

“Delicious,” he said, as neutrally as he could. “My compliments to the kitchens.” 

The Elf disappeared without a word, as did the remains of the meal. Severus sat down and penned a note for Lucius.

_Alas my dear Lucius the wine you graciously gifted me with was of unfortunate vintage. An aggressive taste, with lingering notes of vinegar. It was very rough on the palate. Better luck next time. SS. ___

__He sent the note off with his owl, then retired to his chamber where he immediately opened one of his own wines and filled the largest goblet he could. Tomorrow he would talk to Albus and move forward with plans for the school, Severus promised himself. Tomorrow he would report back to the Dark Lord on the status of the school, he sternly ordered himself. But tonight he was going to drink two bottles of wine and pass out._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, but I just found it a little funny to imagine the House Elves would be waging their own guerilla campaign against Snape. And of course Lucius, well, he wouldn’t let that opportunity pass by would he?


	2. The stirrings of an idea

Severus woke up with a pounding headache and a desperate thirst. He looked up at the canopy above the Headmaster’s bed and remembered where he was. He rolled over and grabbed the Hangover Potion he’d brewed the day before, when he’d planned to write himself off. He lay there, letting the potion work. He could have used Dreamless Sleep he supposed, but it wasn’t quite the same as the insensible sleep of the truly drunk. He probably should keep an eye on his alcohol consumption, Severus thought, as he needed all his wits about him at present. 

He sat up, and grabbed an apple from his ‘Safe food’ pile. After yesterday, he’d have to be extremely careful about anything that someone gave him. It was another worry to add to the unstable towers of worries Severus was already carrying in his head. He would likely die of a heart attack before the end of the war at this rate. 

After making himself barely presentable he found himself back in the main office, surrounded by the portraits. Thankfully most were pretending to be asleep, except of course Albus.

“Ah Severus, lots to discuss today my boy.”

“Wonderful,” sighed Severus.

“The Order will be looking to movie Harry soon. I have left items with him, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger to assist them on their particular task. Those three must be kept safe in order for Voldemort to be destroyed.”

Severus looked up in confusion. “Granger is still around? I thought she was in hiding.”

“No, she remains a staunch ally of Harry. Now Severus, I wish to discuss the move. You will have to give Voldemort the correct date of Harry’s departure from his aunt and uncle’s—“

Severus half-listened as Albus issued his latest set of orders and his eyes flicked to the foe glass. Faces of the Order were fading in and out, one by one, with Potter at the forefront, always at the forefront. Granger’s remained absent. He frowned, and realised that Albus was still droning on.

“Yes yes. I have a plan. Just let me get on with it without your constant yammering,” Severus said crossly. 

Albus tutted. “Severus,” The portrait said warningly.

“Albus is used to dealing with Gryffindors, Headmaster,” The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black interrupted obsequiously. “He isn’t familiar with the word ‘plan’, maybe you should just do something stupid without any type of forethought, then he would be comfortable.”

Severus rolled his eyes, Merlin save him from magical portraits and their petty shite. He had been tracking that utter cretin Fletcher for days, and had a completely ludicrous idea to implant on him. It would either work, or everyone would be killed. So that was just great. He would have to play his part in it, which was to protect Potter without obviously appearing to. Severus rubbed his face. He wondered if they would put his magical portrait up on the wall once he was dead, then he could spend his days bitching at the Headmasters that came after him. He suddenly had a vision of Minerva and Hooch tossing his portrait into a bonfire and roasting chestnuts as it burned. Ah, yes, the most likely outcome. Dead twice.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

“Severus are you listening to me?” Albus demanded.

“Obviously not,” said Severus, and walked around the desk and sat down. The school ledger was in front of him. It was diligently filling out line after line with names.

“The children for this year’s entry into Hogwarts, Headmaster,” explained Armando Dippet from his painting. “You’ll need to send out their invitations by owl soon.”

Severus looked over the names, and some had ‘muggleborn’ next to them. A cold hand squeezed his chest tightly and he felt a lump of something like panic rising up in his chest. They might as well have ‘Deceased’ written there. Severus knew exactly the plans for muggleborn, he had heard the from the mouth of Voldemort himself. There was torture, there was death, and a host of unpleasantness in-between. The panic filled him like a balloon, expanding until he thought it would burst and he attempted to calm himself by reciting potion ingredients silently to himself. A plan, his brain gibbered at him, you need a plan. 

“Why the blood status?” he asked loudly to no one in particular, and was relieved at how calm and even he sounded.

“Some muggle families may require a visit from the Headmaster or Deputy,” Dippet piped up again. “To explain the implications of the letter.”

“This is irrelevant Severus,” the voice of Albus broke in. “Your focus is Harry. Remember this.”

“I could hardly forget when you and the Dark Lord never shut up about him,” Severus snarked. He drummed his fingers on the table as the lines continued to travel down the page. “Besides, I need to actually _do_ Headmaster activities as Headmaster don’t I? You were the one who wanted me here, to protect the students from the Carrows, were you not just saying?”

“I was,” replied Albus serenely, sitting back in his painted chair. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“Well that’s my skill isn’t it Dumbledore?” Severus said, a little nastily. “Convincing people I’m doing one thing when I’m actually doing the complete opposite.” 

But Albus was gone from his portrait. 

Typical, snorted Severus, always gone when you want to shout at him, probably hiding out in some other portrait in the castle. Suddenly something clicked in his head. 

The muggleborn students. No one would know about them yet. 

They wouldn’t be registered with the Ministry until they accepted their place at Hogwarts and bought their wands. If they, say, disappeared before this, they would completely escape the notice of anyone with nefarious intentions. He traced his lips, this was an interesting prospect, and would save him more deaths on his conscious. He then berated himself for his self-interest. The ‘how’ was the issue. He couldn’t ask Dumbledore, he would be completely against idea. It was too risky, and there was the possibility that Severus would...show his hand...regarding allegiance. 

__No._ _

There must be someone else. He needed someone resourceful and if they weren’t too attached to being alive, that would also be a useful quality. 

Severus ran his hands through his hair. This would require more thought. But in the meantime, he had to find Mundungus Fletcher and make him think Severus’ idea was his. The Order wouldn’t even question why their basest member, the sleazy thief, suddenly appeared with the perfect solution to their problem. No, they rarely questioned anything. No one would be wondering why he killed Albus, why he had seemingly returned to Voldemort, why he was Headmaster. 

They’d be sitting around whatever place was the new Order headquarters competing with each other to be the first to say ‘I knew he was bad the whole time’ and patting themselves on the back that most of them had always treated him with disdain and suspicion. Potter would be spouting some shit about vengeance and blobbing around being petulant and emo. Potter’s pet Weasley would be just nodding—he always seemed to copy his friend—and Granger would be..... his imagination faltered. 

What _would_ she be doing? Probably sitting there, with that shrewd, calculating _Convince Me_ expression she used to wear in his classes. He shrugged, it didn’t matter. Either way, in the very near future all of them would be fleeing for their lives from a horde of Death Eaters, which, of course, would include himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The underlined phrase is a quote taken directly from Deathly Hallows.
> 
> I’m writing the portrait of a Black as a bit of a bitch as that’s how he appeared to me in the book.


	3. The Battle of the Seven Potters

Mundungus Fletcher was still one of the most distasteful individuals Severus had the displeasure of dealing with. And that included Umbridge and the Dark Lord. Messing with his head was like putting his hand in one of those rubbish bins normally found out the back of the type of shady pubs his father used to drink at. Dim, mucky and oozing with unpleasantness. 

The only silver lining to the encounter had been the look of utter terror in Fletcher’s eyes as Severus had pounced on him as Fletcher wandered out of a brothel. He spent just enough time with the little shit in that horrid tavern across from the knockshop to implant the idea in Fletcher’s mind then left. He needed a shower or bath or some kind of decontamination to wash off the Fletcher feeling.

He managed some partially satisfactorily ablutions. The House Elves were continuing their nasty little protests against him and towels regularly disappeared from his bathroom, generally while he was using it. Severus decided to ignore them for the moment, keeping a stack of towels next to his ‘safe food’ collection and warded everything to an inch of his life. At least he knew what they were playing at, if he made clear he did, they would change tactics and he just didn’t have the energy to keep up with that along with everything else.

The encounter with Fletcher did make him think a bit more of his situation. If there were gross little wizards like Fletcher running around, then common sense would suggest there would be equally resourceful ones that potentially _weren’t_ morally bankrupt. He just needed to find one, and someone convince them to help him. Without them knowing who he was. Or them telling him the specifics of their plan. 

Severus sucked his teeth. This was complex, but no matter, it was something to occupy his thoughts rather than ruminating and anticipating the next Torture Fun Time Extravaganza hosted at the Manor. Fletcher was an old Hogwarts alumni, perhaps the answer was in the historical student records. 

No Slytherins, they’d likely recognise him immediately or have too many familial links to the Death Eater cohort to risk doing anything, even if they felt inclined. 

No Gryffindors, he wanted someone sneaky.....resourceful, not someone who would blast around on a broom screaming ‘Save the muggleborn!’ at the top of of their lungs outside the Ministry. 

Either a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. 

Severus went to his chambers, he wouldn’t do anything out where the portraits could observe. He accio’d the shrunken school records going back twenty years or so and started to go through them while waiting to be Summoned to attack the Order when they moved Potter.

Severus had just got through the first three years after he had left Hogwarts as a student when his arm began burning. He put aside the book and his notes and summoned his robe and mask and strode to the apparation point. There was no need to Disillusion himself, the only residents currently were himself, House Elves and the House ghosts. Severus secured his Occulamency walls before leaving for the Manor, he didn’t want anything leaking out prior to the attack. He hoped the Order had taken his...well... _Fletcher’s_ advice and had prepared themselves. He straightened his robes, put on his mask and turned on the spot.

Many hours later Severus appeared back at Hogwarts, staggering slightly upon arrival. Voldemort had been incandescent with rage at failing to kill Potter and had taken it out on his loyal followers. Severus had escaped reasonably lightly, as he had been the one to provide the correct date of Potter’s move, but the Dark Lord did tend to have quite the temper tantrum, which generally resulted in a lot of Cruciatus being fairly indiscriminately dealt out. 

His mask, broken during the fight, hung from his left hand as he limped back to his quarters. He needed Blood Replenisher, Pain Potion and at least one bottle of wine. If they were mixed together in a big bucket and drunk with a straw, Severus thought wildly, it might make all three a bit more palatable. 

He entered the room and the portraits all eyed his bedraggled, bloody figure.

“Well done, well done,” said Albus. “I take it Tom was displeased.”

“A fairly accurate summary,” replied Severus, pulling out the required potions from the drawer of his desk.

“Harry is safe. The plan was a success,” Albus informed him. 

Severus blew out a deep breath and leant his forehead against the cupboard.

“The Headmaster is injured Albus,” said Phineas. “Leave him be.”

Severus walked to him desk and slumped in his chair, arms dangling over the sides as he waited for the potions to work. His head pounded and he couldn’t keep his thoughts internal anymore.

“Hagrid, Dumbledore?” he asked the room incredulously. “HAGRID?”

“Hagrid is a—“

“Shut up,” said Severus. “They put the real Potter with Hagrid, flying that stupid fucking motorcycle. It was pure bloody luck he is still alive. The Order didn’t think to use their two most powerful members? I don’t know, perhaps Minerva, who flew as a chaser for her team all through school or Molly, who could have played professionally if she hadn’t decided instead to singlehandedly triple the Wizarding population?”

“Well, you see-“ 

“Was it a witch thing? Was that it? Merlin Dumbledore, the Dark Lord never hesitates to use his most powerful weapon when he needs, he certainly doesn’t pass Bella over looking for someone with a dick.”

“Headmaster!” cried the scandalised Dilys Derwent portrait.

“Severus. Calm yourself!” ordered Albus, rising from his chair.

“If you had any concept of what I’ve done, what I will do, for this...” Severus said through clenched teeth. 

“You came to _me_ , Albus said, with a steel edge to his voice. 

Severus deflated somewhat. “I just want to feel like everyone is taking it as seriously as me,” he said, somewhat petulantly.

“You hit one of the Harrys,” Albus retorted.

“It was an accident. I was trying to stop Lupin being cursed,” Severus countered. “Who was it?”

“George Weasley. He lost an ear,” Albus said.  


Severus shrugged. “Better be alive with one ear then dead with both,” he said. “Who was with Kingsley on the thestral? They killed Fenton.”

“Miss Granger,” Albus replied. 

Severus rolled his eyes. _Typical._

The singular effective spell cast by a ‘Potter’ was from her. Well, not counting that ‘love magic’ shit Albus was always panting about that Potter once again managed to produce. Voldemort was raging about some spell cast by the ‘real’ Potter, which surprised Severus, Potter must have been channeling his excess anger into practicing and not just vengeance fantasies. 

Severus knew Moody had been killed, so that was something else to feel responsible for. He’d been a suspicious old bastard but he’d always been upfront about his suspicions, so Severus had to give him that, there were never any fake pleasantries from Moody. Plus, he’d put one in the eye of the pureblood’s who scorned any type of disability, Moody certainly bested almost everyone despite his missing leg and eye. Everyone except Barty of course, but Barty had, prior to his death, the advantage of being a psychopathic maniac.

Severus sat up a bit. The potions had improved his condition substantially and he felt well enough to get up, wash and change. He briefly contemplated opening a bottle of wine but he needed a clear head to begin combing through the records. He lay on top of his bed, eating a packet of crisps and reading. He’d come across an anomaly he wanted to investigate further. 

Basila Crossley. 

Muggleborn. 

Started Hogwarts the year after he had left.

Ravenclaw. 

She’d left after her fourth year. Very unusual. 

He dug out her personal records. _Ah_. Quite a few visits to Poppy. Almost as many as himself. Severus sighed. It was around the time of Voldemort’s first rise to power, and it had been a bad time for muggleborn. 

There were a few disciplinary entries. Apparently Basila didn’t take getting attacked lying down, because she was caught and punished for brawling. Severus smirked, he could just imagine the shook of the pureblood tormenter as the smaller girl launched at them with her fists...oh and feet as well it appeared from his reading of her file. Then...nothing. She didn’t return for her fifth year. 

Severus chewed on his lip as he pondered whether he could ask the Grey Lady about her, then dismissed the idea immediately as ghosts were a total pain in the arse to talk to. Basila may have returned to the muggle world. Severus lay back on the bed and decided he would do a bit of extra digging tomorrow. This time outside Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know everyone loves Hagrid, but I stand by my claim it was a crazy idea to have him as an escort. And I couldn’t resist having Snape put in a feminist dig at Dumbledore, you go girl! 
> 
> The name of our potential heroine?  
> * Basila is an Arabic girls name meaning “brave” and “courageous”  
> * Crossley is after Anna Crossley, who served in the British Army in Afghanistan as a Female Engagement Officer (FEO).


	4. Finding Basila

Severus could not remember the last time he had been to a muggle library. It was very enjoyable. It was well lit, kept at a comfortable temperature and there were books everywhere. He was currently hunched over one of the computers, stabbing with two fingers, looking for anything he could find on Basila. He had also found he could print out for a small fee. They’d wanted him to sign up for a library card but he had declined. As nice as it was, he doubted he would be back. 

He sighed loudly. He wasn’t doing well. 

“What’s wrong?” asked a voice next to him. 

He turned around. A young woman with a soft cloud of dark hair was next to him at another computer.

“I’m shit at these things apparently,” Severus said frustratedly, waving his hand at the computer. 

She laughed. “It’s your lucky day. I’m amazing.”

She then grinned at him, and he was inexplicably reminded of Granger. 

_Great._ Another eager swot. 

Was every young woman in the world with disastrous hair irritatingly clever and just a little bit too helpful, or was it just coincidence? 

“Ah,” he said, sighing again, this time inwardly. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“An old friend. She was at school after me but dropped out and I wanted to catch up, see where she is.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “A ‘friend’ hey....? Yeah, yeah sure,” she said as she winked. 

Severus held back a sneer with incredible effort. 

“Name?” asked the girl.

“Basila Crossley,” he said. 

The woman pecked away at the keyboard, and she hummed as she pecked. She seemed to be making positive noises as she jumped from page to page. Severus leant back on an elbow and watched her.

“Well. She’s alive, and not too hard to find. You just had to know where to look,” the woman said a little smugly. “She’s a decorated war hero you know. From Afghanistan.” 

Severus sat up, interested. “Really?” 

“And teaches self-defense classes for women. So, her phone numbers are right here and an address of her class, I’ll print out her contact details.” 

The woman hit a button, he passed her some money and she wandered off. She returned with printed name, address and two telephone numbers which she handed to Severus.

“Good luck with your ‘friend’,” she teased, tossed her ball of hair and sat back at her computer.

“Thanks,” said Severus. _Bloody smart arses._

Severus left the library but set up next door with a coffee and some type of almond-cake-thingy. He wanted to think on the next step before taking it. He also was enjoying being anonymous. He was not even the even the person in the cafe attracting the most covert glances, he thought, the man behind him had a swirling galaxy tattoo up his neck to his jawline, and a line of gold up one ear and under his lip. 

Severus looked at the food in front of him, that in all likelihood wasn’t poisoned, and thought how pleasant it was not having to worry about looking over his shoulder or trying to memorise every conversation. He could just...be. 

He looked down at the printed details. The ex-Ravenclaw was an interesting prospect, sohe decided to locate her and watch for a day. He had a little bit of time before the owls had to be sent out, but he did have to move eventually. 

Soon the staff would arrive at school, a thought which sent a churn through his stomach. That was going to be a undoubtably craptastic reunion. For his own amusement he could order them an afternoon tea, then watch the House Elves brains explode as they warred between wanting to serve him the usual tainted fare, and not wanting to kill the rest of the staff. 

Yes. 

Perfect. 

That’s _exactly_ what he would do. 

Basila taught her classes in Southall, in a multipurpose room above a small gym. He stood across the road for a while, Disillusioned, while he watched her classes file in and out. She taught women and girls mostly, but also it appeared the elderly of both sexes. At the end of the day a tall, strongly built woman exited the building and headed down the block. 

Severus followed her to a local pub, where she was met by a group of equally sturdy looking men. Military acquaintances, Severus supposed. They drank and laughed and were so utterly normal looking that Severus got incredibly bored and decided he’d had enough. Then there was the altercation. 

Severus had observed a woman at the bar politely fending off an intoxicated man near her, he couldn’t hear the exchange but it was obvious the man was not interested in leaving the woman alone. He felt for his wand, perhaps a small distraction somewhere would allow the woman time to escape? Basila has also been watching the exchange and apparently had had enough. Severus watched her walk over and insert herself between the man and woman, the drunk tried to push her out of the way but Basila grabbed him and expertly spun him away. 

_Interesting_ , thought Severus, a desire to help others—someone she didn’t even know. That’s what Severus wanted to see, a vulnerability. Satisfied, he left and returned to Hogwarts.

“Severus, where have you been?” demanded Albus when Severus entered the main room.

“Exactly what you asked me to do. Death Eater things,” lied Severus, with a raised eyebrow. “Would you like me to elucidate further?”

The portrait said nothing, merely settled back in the chair and steepled his fingers. 

Severus turned his back on it and began shuffling papers on the desk. He had to begin putting together the curriculum for the year. The new and improved curriculum, designed by the Dark Lord himself. Most of the classes remained fairly similar, though Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts were spectacularly different. Muggle studies would now cover the inferiority of muggles in comparison to—Severus couldn’t even finish the sentence in his head. 

He laughed grimly to himself, remembering the computers in the library. Yes, muggles, definitely inferior right? He thought again of Basila, she’d reverted completely back to her muggle roots, he wondered if she even still had her wand. He would contact her using a telephone, no point using anything else, he imagined she would not welcome an owl. 

“Any updates Severus?” the portrait finally spoke again behind him.

“They will take the Ministry soon,” said Severus off-handedly. “Everyone who needs to disappear needs to be prepared to do it without a moment’s notice.”

“There is a wedding to be held at the Burrow in the next few days, will they be safe?” Albus asked him.   
Severus looked up, and made a show of stroking his chin.

“Hmmmm. Will a group of people branded as blood traitors and agents of the enemy be safe while attending an event where they will likely let their guard down and be clustered together in one small location? It’s a tough one.” 

Black snorted from his painting and Severus shrugged. At least _someone_ agreed with him.

Very much later Severus couldn’t sleep. He was annoyed at Dumbledore, who he thoroughly blamed for keeping him up. Now all he could think about was the stupid Order members, which of course then made him worry about whether they’d left anything incriminating at Number Twelve. Well, there was no use ruminating about it, he may as well go there and do a quick sanitise. That way if one of the members was caught and the charm was broken, it wouldn’t matter. He cast _Tempus_ , it was nearly two in the morning, it was a good a time as any. 

Half an hour later he was quickly checking cupboards and drawers, ignoring the completely bemused but silent geriatric House Elf who, upon witnessing his unexpected arrival, had merely presented him with some tea and biscuits. They were refreshingly free from poison. 

Severus been briefly startled by Moody’s angry-ghost-Dumbledore jinx, but had disarmed it easily enough and then reset it. He tutted to himself as he discovered one of the cupboards still held his box of Wolfsbane potions, almost a years worth, pre-made and placed under stasis by himself for Lupin. 

_Great_.

Lupin hadn’t even remembered to take it with him. Well, it would probably make the wedding more memorable, kiss the bride and then watch her get her leg eaten off. In fact, it would probably make the wedding actually interesting. They were boring right? Severus had only been to Lucius’ wedding to Cissy and it had been so decadent Severus had felt thoroughly out of his element. There had been at least three wardrobe changes by the couple during the event, eight enormous cakes and Severus had been forced to dance with a number of elderly witches with wandering hands. 

Severus paused in thought, should he take the box and contents and leave it somewhere at Hogwarts where Minerva could find it? Lupin needed to potions, he knew the other brewers had been told—threatened—not to make it anymore. The Dark Lord liked lycanthropes in their more... aggressive form. He decided to check the upstairs rooms while he thought more on what he should do.

Upstairs was where he found the letter and photograph. These were...an unexpected hurdle. He had regained some composure and was walking back downstairs when he heard someone in the house. More to the point, he heard someone scream “Ah fuck!” when they triggered Moody’s jinx. 

Severus quickly Disillusioned himself and paused at the doorway. He saw nothing but heard breathing. _Potter and his bloody cloak._

Severus rolled his eyes. Only Potter would be moronic enough to come back here, when he knew it was vulnerable as Severus had been one of the Secret Keepers after the death of Dumbledore. Maybe he came back because he thought he would have some man-to-man duel with Severus or something like that. Severus rubbed his face, _teenagers_. He didn’t really want to hex the shit out of Potter, although, no, actually he did _really _want to do that but he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. Imagining explaining to Dumbledore he’d inadvertently blasted Potter’s face off.__

__He stiffened as he felt someone cast Homenum Revelio and he modified his own charm to deflect against this. Years of hiding from Black’s gang had assisted his discovery of that little piece of magic and Severus had decided to keep that particular innovation to himself. When nothing was revealed the caster threw off the cloak and Severus nearly groaned aloud. _Granger_. She looked worse than he did, obviously the early hours of the morning were a friend to neither of them. Her hair was particularly offensive. _ _

__It was interesting to objectively view someone who apparently paid as little attention to their physical appearance as he did. Although, he grudgingly admitted to himself, she was perhaps working from a better underlying base than he was. There was a difference between someone who looked like crap because attractiveness apparently wasn’t important enough to them to warrant the effort and someone who looked like crap regardless of effort. She was probably the former, he was _definitely_ the latter, he thought without a hint of sarcasm._ _

__He watched her look around nervously before raising her wand._ _

__“ _Accio_ Wolfsbane potion.” _ _

__Severus watched the box fly into her hands. She opened it carefully and counted the shrunken vials within._ _

__Well, that solved the problem of getting the potions to Lupin._ _

__He idly wondered if they’d sent her to fetch them, then supposed not given the current time and the fact it was her and not another, more _disposable_ Order member. No, Severus concluded, she’d decided to do this little night jaunt without telling anyone. In fairness to Granger, she had been the one to steal from his stores, so she did have previous form for recklessness in her pursuit of important potion related items. _ _

__He watched her close the box with that familiar calculating expression on her face, then she huffed and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. She stood for a while, looking at nothing and tapping her fingers on the table, then pulled the cloak back over herself and he assumed she must then have left as the room fell silent._ _

__He waited for a while until he felt the house was empty again. He reset the jinx and left, the torn photo and the piece of paper with Lily’s love in his pocket._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love the image of Snape rocking up at Number 12 and Kreacher just going.....um...here’s some arvo tea. He’s used to the Black’s so I’m sure Snape would seem quite mild in comparison.


	5. Committing to the plan

Finding a functional public telephone, and then putting together the right change to make it work had already made calling Basila an exhausting endeavour for Severus. Thankfully, he’d finally got his shit in a sock and was currently listening to the telephone ringing on the other end while trying not to smell whatever the hell it was that was all over the inside of the booth wall closest to him.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Crossley Defence classes?”

“Yes. Are you looking to join a class or private tuition?”

“Private. I’m looking on behalf of some young children, around the age of eleven.”

“I can teach them some things, that is not a problem. I will need permission from their guardians and we can discuss price depending on the size of the group.”

“Can we meet to have the discussion?”

“Yes, I’ll give you the address of my business.”

“I have the address.”

“Okay fine, how does this afternoon at three sound?”

“I can make that.”

“Okay great. Can I ask how you found me? Was it a recommendation from a current student?”

“I’m an alumni from your old school.”

“Oh, Featherstone? Wonderful!”

“No....your _other_ school.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Severus thought she may hang up, he took a risk alluding to Hogwarts, but he wanted her to know before they met so she could prepare herself.

“I don’t think they would require the _impure_ nature of my classes,” said Basila, very coldly.

“These particular children are facing a very similar situation to the one you did.”

There was again that long silence and Severus waited patiently. Then a long sigh.

“Very well. I am prepared to meet with you, but no promises.” 

She hung up before Severus could reply.

Back at Hogwarts Severus was beginning to suffer from a terminal case of Second Thoughts. He was going to get himself killed, then if there was an afterlife there would be a standoff between Dumbledore or Lily to decide who would get to kill him again for failing to save Potter. He put a hand in his pocket and touched the paper he’d taken from Number Twelve. He closed his eyes. 

Potter was important, but if he let those children be killed he could never forgive himself. Adults were one thing, they tended to make decisions that either got themselves into or out of trouble...but children. Severus stopped. As a very reluctant teacher he didn’t like children very much at all, he preferred his House charges out of all the smaller humans as they were generally polite to him and also tended to be a little sneaky, which he approved of. 

There was something about attacking children that particularly grated on him. If someone could have intervened in the numerous times that the younger version of himself was getting pounded, by his father, the marauders, his father again...well, he would have appreciated it. 

Lucius saved him from an attack once, which Severus hypothesised was more to do with the older boy being bored and looking for fun as opposed to his desire to help out a younger Housemate. But it had made an impression on Severus, and probably was the reason he continued to put up with Lucius being such a pompous homicidal arse. 

These children had only made one mistake, and that was being born to muggle parents, which was a pretty unfair thing to hold against them. He thought Lilly would approve of an attempt to help the children, and it would perhaps even provide some salve against the burning shame and regret associated with the _mudblood_ memory. 

_Actually_ —the logical part of his brain piped up—Lily wouldn’t approve or disapprove of his actions at all, as she would outright refuse to have anything to do with him as she _hated his guts_. The items in his pocket suddenly felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. 

No, Severus decided, this particular brand of folly he was pursuing wouldn’t be for Lily, it would be for himself, because it was _right_.

He had the list of first years but was that enough? Should he...perhaps consider the older students in the same predicament? His mind strayed to Finch-Fletchley. Charity had run a smaller class some evenings with students from Muggle Studies who wanted to delve more into literature classics. Severus had got involved last year when Charity had approached him in the staffroom one evening as he was marking papers.

“We’re doing some famous plays,” said had said. “It would be great if you could come along to help me do the reading, you have a wonderful voice for it.” 

Severus had been struck dumb by that, and couldn’t even dig out a rude retort. He actually couldn’t remember someone asking him to do something without resorting to threats or emotional blackmail. To his own shock he’d heard himself agreeing. 

The class had been small, three Ravenclaw, one Hufflepuff and surprisingly, two Slytherin students. They were reading, to equal parts hilarity and dismay, _The Crucible_. Severus had been given Reverend John Hale to read, and he’d started out a bit tentatively. But the students had all been consumed by the play, some shouting their parts passionately and cheering each other on when someone had done a particularly stirring rendition that he’d ended up relaxing. 

It was actually a high point of the term for Severus, the small group reading through the story and Charity stopping them at intervals to discuss through the themes of the play and parallels with both muggle and Wizarding society. Finch-Fletchley has been the Hufflepuff student, and a very enthusiastic participant. He’d told Severus after one class that if he hadn’t gone to Hogwarts, he would have loved to be an actor. He’d mentioned this after observing Severus would have also done well in the acting profession, which Severus had found ironically hilarious. How could the boy know that Severus was currently performing the role of his life?

Finch-Fletchley had gone to see _Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf,_ the last play the group was studying, in one of the term breaks and had brought the programme to Severus during office hours to show him. 

All the students from the class had increased their efforts in Potions as well and nodded when they passed him in the halls. It was, Severus thought, almost as if they respected him or, at the very least, didn’t actively loathe him. He doubted the Carrows would be running the group this year, unless it was to highlight how illiterate muggles were. 

And Charity. Severus felt his throat close, his mouth water. He was going to throw up. No, scratch that, he _was_ throwing up. He sobbed slightly as he fought valiantly to suppress the memories of Charity spinning above the table at the Manor, then eaten by that fucking snake. Her pleas to him. 

He wiped an eye with surprise—he was crying. He hadn’t realised. He decided, yes, he would try, for himself, for Charity, and for a chance for someone to read those plays at Hogwarts again. 

He Vanished his mess. He couldn’t risk helping the students like Finch-Fletchley...like Granger, they were too high profile. He knew that Finch-Fletchley‘s parents had money, hopefully they could get their boy to...Eton was it? And Granger, well, she had the Order to protect her and her family. 

But sitting here having a breakdown wouldn’t help anyone, Severus chastised himself, and he had to leave to meet Basila soon. He had to convince her to hide the children and their families. Money. Severus thought suddenly. She’d need money. He strongly doubted she’d have any Wizarding currency. He had a stash at his house at Spinner’s End, put aside for a rainy day....but then it turned out every day was rainy so he guessed he was now waiting for a sunny day. He figured this was as sunny as it would probably get. Pettigrew was out of the house now, he could apparate there first and get the money before going to Southall.

Severus had decided on this course of action when his left arm started burning. 

_Oh for the love of_...Severus thought to himself. _Bloody typical_! 

He stilled himself, drawing in some deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. He looked up at the mirror across the room. Excellent, he still looked like a bucket of crap, but not a bucket of crap that was falling apart at the seams. With some effort, he slammed down his mental walls and was rewarded with seeing his face close off and become cold and distant. Satisfied, he left for the apparation point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the addition of the extra class with Charity. CeleryThesis prompted this idea when she said they’d probably be some students Snape got along with. The books are told from the perspective of Gryffindor’s, who a) largely hated Snape and b) didn’t appear to spend much time with kids from any other House (except Luna). So it is possible this class could be held and they never knew about it.


	6. The muggle-born register

“Severus,” Voldemort purred.

“My Lord,” Severus, bowing low before him, which brought him eye level with pale bare feet with disturbingly long, pointed nails. His mind thought it an excellent time to present an image to Severus of Voldemort getting a French pedicure.

His subconscious obviously wanted him dead.

“How are the changes to my school?”

“All is in order to your exact wishes my Lord,” answered Severus, staying almost prone.

“Excellent. Approach and speak with me Severus.” 

Severus stood, thankfully leaving behind the feet and pedicure thoughts.

“I have requested preparation of something special for when the Ministry is—corrected,” Voldemort said. 

He waved a hand lazily and Severus heard a distinctive throat clear behind him. His inner self sighed loudly in recognition. 

_Bloody Umbridge_. 

He hoped she wasn’t coming back to the school. He could keep a lid on the Carrows. They were stupid, but Umbridge was clever. She’d be a nightmare. Except, maybe everyone would stop trying to kill him, and focus their efforts on her instead. 

Tempting.

She was obviously in one piece Severus thought, even though Hooch had delighted in telling Severus some horrific story about Umbridge and centaurs. He suspected she liked to try to shock him. But Umbridge didn’t look like she’d been ravaged by centaurs, she looked as glaringly pink as ever, and that gigantic stick still appeared to well up her arse.

“The ‘Muggle-bor’ register will require those who meet the requirements to present themselves to the Ministry for investigation,” simpered Dolores Umbridge, reading from something official looking. “Blood status will of course be an entry requirement for Hogwarts.”

Voldemort laughed, so Severus smirked. That was how he’d stayed alive so long, by reading the situation well. 

“I’m making your job easier for you Severus, no mudbloods sullying your halls,”

“Thank you, my Lord,” said Severus, inclining his head. 

“I know I am keeping you from your preparations as Headmaster,” said Voldemort, dismissing Umbridge with another wave. 

The other sombre clothed attendees gave her garish outfit some serious side-eye as she walk through their midst. 

“If you require my services, I am honoured to offer them,” Severus said but was thinking _For fuck’s sake shut up and let me go._

“Severus, I wish you to bring me the list of first years, and their blood status. I want to send a....welcoming committee to some of their families.” 

Severus’s blood froze, _oh shitsticks_ he thought.

“My Lord, I will do so. However currently I am breaking wards in the Headmaster’s office that I believe Dumbledore left,” Severus lied and waited for the response, which could range from benevolent acceptance to three hours of Cruciatus. 

But Voldemort merely nodded, and stared at him with those inhuman eyes. Severus stood in front of Voldemort, his posture radiating nothing but fear-tinged reverence. _If only Finch-Fletchley could see me now,_ Severus thought wildly to himself behind the black mirror of his mental walls, _fucking Oscar material right here._

“You are powerful. I expect the list within a matter of days.” 

Voldemort flicked his eyes away then back to Severus, who bowed in return. 

He was dismissed. 

He strode out through the Manor, ignoring Lucius on the way who was shooting him meaningful glances. He passed a very pale looking Draco who looked at him with haunted eyes that telegraphed a cry for help. But he had to go to Spinner’s End before Southall, he had no time for Malfoy charades. He pushed everything down behind the walls until it was grey and meaningless and spun away.

In Spinner’s End he pulled out his copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ from his bookshelf and opened it, taking the small box from the hollowed out inside. The book was warded, but he also chose one of the most common, boring books he could. A text given to every Hogwarts student that literally no one read. 

Well, _he’d_ read it, but he was also a common, boring thing he supposed. Kindred spirits, him and that dense, boring book; packed with all sorts of knowledge no one cared about or even had them interested enough to go past the cover. 

Good. The money was still there, and he put the shrunken box into his pocket. 

There was his appearance to consider. It wouldn’t be wise to meet Basila looking like himself. He didn’t think for one second she would recognise him, but if she decided to assist, and subsequently was caught, he couldn’t risk them linking anything back to him. 

Besides, Severus thought, glancing in the mirror in his sitting room, he wasn’t a particularly friendly or trustworthy looking person. He certainly wouldn’t take on any type of dangerous task offered to him by someone who looked like him. 

The meeting with Basila wouldn’t last long, he could probably hold a glamour charm for that length of time without much difficulty. He remembered the beauty charm Lockhart had used daily, “Just a top up” he’d told Severus when he’d observed Lockhart re-casting it one day. Vain idiot. “He doesn’t need it” Sprout had said admirably to huge guffaws from the rest of the faculty when Severus had bitched about it in the common room later, which was bloody rich coming from her as she didn’t even go for wizards in that way. “Well. You can’t charm an ugly personality” Trelawney had said unexpectedly, and that had shut up everyone nicely. Too bad if one was ugly on the outside _and_ the inside, Severus mused, painfully aware of his own shortcomings. 

He examined his face critically in the mirror. His nose, teeth and hair were probably his worst features. If he focused on them, he could probably approximate an appearance that would blend in, be thoroughly average. He cast the charm, focusing on the physical elements he decided to change. 

When he looked in the mirror again he was taken aback at the person looking out. It was astonishing the difference a few changes made. He looked, Severus thought to himself, like the sort of person that someone would have walked past at school and said hey, as opposed to sending a trip jinx. He looked like the type of person that perhaps wouldn’t make the girl he liked screw up her face in disgust if he told her so. He was unrecognisable. He tried on a grim smile and was briefly shocked to see his father in the mirror. His mam had once described his father as handsome, which Severus had assumed was perhaps how they had ended up together as he had been a total bastard in every other way. 

The changes would do in order to meet Basila, then he could dump the charm and never put it on again.

————————————

Basila moved her desk out of the small office in the corner of her multipurpose room. She wanted to sit behind it to meet with her mystery caller, but didn’t want to be stuck in a confined space with him. She pulled out two chairs, now she would be sitting with the light behind her, it would be uncomfortable for him and she hoped it would give her an advantage. She ran her hand across her head. She’d just had her hair cropped short again. 

When she taught her class, she usually wore a soft turquoise jogging suit with a smiling sun on the front. She knew her height could make her intimidating to the younger girls, so she generally tried to soften her image a bit. Not today. Today she had ramped up the intimidating. Her short hair exposed the rippled skin on the side of her neck and towards her ear from an old, bad burn. She had on her scuffed leather jacket that made her shoulders look broader, and she wore her old combat boots that added to her height. 

She sat down, observing the images streaming from her security camera and watched a man walk up to the door and examine it briefly. He obviously recognised it for what it was as he then pressed the buzzer. 

Basila spoke into the intercom. “Look up into the camera.”

She wanted a nice image of him in case he was Bad News. He looked up. _Oh well hello there_.... Basila’s libido said... _don’t mind if I do_. She pressed the buzzer to let him inside. If this guy was Bad News, he also looked like it was the type of Bad News she wouldn’t mind a piece of.

When he came up the stairs into her main room, Basila raised her eyebrow. _Damn, son_. He was tall and lean, and moved very gracefully. He wasn’t much older than her, which surprised her, but then again, most of her compadres in the military had been in their twenties and thirties. Fighting age, she supposed.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” he said. 

“We’ll see if we have anything to talk about,” said Basila, and motioned to the chair. 

He sat down and she sat down in the chair on the other side. She met his eyes and she thought about the gun sitting inside her jacket. It was definitely very illegal, but she’d got it through some contacts. You never know, she figured a wizard would go down against a bullet as fast as anyone else.

“I’m Basila,” she introduced herself.

The man grimaced slightly. “I’m sorry, I’d rather not give my name. It’s for your protection.”

“Something tells me your story to me about the eleven year olds was bullshit,” Basila said. 

The man shrugged fluidly.

“There was an element of truth. I’m looking for someone for a very specific job. It’s...well, the situation is complex, it would be hard to explain,” the man said. He looked very calm, as if they had met to discuss buying a secondhand couch or something. 

“Let me have a guess, those filthy little mudbloods are stealing magic again?” Basila guessed. 

He started, then laughed. He had a very nice laugh Basila decided and a very, _very_ nice voice. 

“Turns out it wasn’t that hard to explain after all.” He said, quirking an eyebrow. 

Basila let her eyes drift over him, _oh the things she would do to him, and more so, the things she would let him do to her._

“Well I’ve had experience you see,” said Basila, crossing her arms and glaring. She wasn’t going to let her libido make her go easy on him.

“Yes. I know. This is why I thought you may be willing to help,” the man said. “It’s quite bad now, and it’s getting worse.”

Basila sighed. “Alright. Why don’t you tell me everything you need to and nothing you don’t.” 

The man looked at her shrewdly with dark eyes at that comment. 

She shrugged. “I guess it’s not my first rodeo,” she explained.

“What do you remember about the time you were at Hogwarts?” he asked.

“Blood purity hysteria, some megalomaniac calling himself Lord Voldemort going on a killing rampage, anyone with muggle parents was a target for every bully in the school. Getting attacked while walking to class, that sort of thing.” Basila summarised.

“Then you’ve already got a handle on the current situation we are facing.” 

Basila closed her eyes. “Ahhhhh, and here we get to the children,” she said wearily.

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Basila sat in silence, weighing up her next comment. He sat in front of her placidly, examining his fingernails. He was incredibly hard to read, thought Basila, she wasn’t even sure he was trustworthy. He was a wizard Basila acknowledged, yet knew about intercoms and cameras and telephones. He obviously was comfortable functioning in her world. It was this thought which brought her to make her decision.

“How is it you think I would be able to help?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m probably stretching the canon here with Tobias being handsome, but he must have had some type of charm at least at some point.


	7. Thus always to tyrants

“You are in the military,” Severus said. 

Basila huffed a breath and looked away. “I _was_.” 

Severus said nothing, letting the silence roll out before him like a lure. 

She met his eyes.

“I was discharged, for medical reasons, er not sure you’ve heard of it, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in Afghanistan. My mum, she’s Afghan, I’m fluent in Pashto and Dari. I was there to engage with females and their families. Helping civilians escape the conflict zones, identifying where insurgents were holed up, right in the thick of it. We were trucking out some families when we hit an IED.” She must have noticed Severus brief moment of confusion as she clarified. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Improvised Explosive Device, um, a bomb, a roadside bomb. So it went off, I got up a shield charm but only around the families. I was really badly injured, my driver was killed. He was my friend,” she said, looking away from him.

“You had your wand still,” Severus commented. 

She laughed, a short sharp bitter laugh. “Just because they forced me out of school, didn’t mean I wasn’t a witch. Of course I still had it. Wasn’t the only one either.” 

“Who forced you out of school?” Severus asked, focusing on that part of her statement. 

She made a face. “Oh. Well. _Purebloods_. You know the like. It wasn’t too bad in my first year, but it got worse and worse until my parents pulled me out. They said if the Headmaster, um, Dumble-something, couldn’t protect me and wouldn’t punish the perpetrators, they wouldn’t keep me there.”

“Dumbledore,” said Severus helpfully.

“Yes, that’s him, is he still there?”

“No, he‘s dead.”

“What happened?”

“Got killed by the current Headmaster,” Severus said. 

Basila choked on a nervous laugh. “Oh Jesus! Shit. I mean, he was a bit of an idiot in regards to the bullying stuff, but he was okay. Who’s the Headmaster now?”

“Snape,” said Severus.

“Headmaster Snape,” tried out Basila. “Like, he even _sounds_ evil. Is he a Death Eater?”

“Yes. He is.” 

Basila’s face fell. “Oh. I see now. That’s pretty bad for the children like me.” 

Severus nodded in satisfaction at her conclusion “Yes.”

“So, you obviously have an idea.”

“I’ve managed to obtain a copy of the first years addresses and their blood status. They haven’t received their letters yet. They aren’t known to the _authorities_ until they accept their Hogwarts letter.” 

“So...”

“So if someone could get to them before they get the letter, and convince them to hide until the war is over—“

“Over?” interrupted Basila incredulously, “It’s the _same_ guy from when I was a kid!”

“Long story. He was killed, was brought back to life, chaos reigns, etcetera etcetera,” said Severus. 

He pulled out the box and enlarged it. “Here is all the money I have. It’s yours if you say you’ll help, you can use it to hide the children and their families.”

Basila inclined her head and looked at him.

“Why can’t _you_ help them?” 

Severus sighed. “I have my own task to complete. Don’t worry, it’s also certainly impossible as well as highly dangerous, if that makes you feel better.”

Basila pursed her lips, considering.

“I want to show you something,” she said. 

She pushed up one arm of her jacket, showing a tattoo of a rampant eagle triumphant over what appeared to be a dead serpent. Words curled around the image, _Sic semper tyrannis....Thus always to tyrants_ , Severus translated to himself. 

“You like it?” Basila asked. 

“It’s certainly striking,” Severus observed.

“You got a tattoo?”

“No. They seem to be the sort of thing that is hard to get rid of if you change your mind,” Severus replied. 

Basila grinned. “Oh yes. They are. You can if you really want, bloody painful though.”

“Hmmmm,” Severus decided not to comment further. 

“Well I got this in memory of why I left Hogwarts—and everything else—behind.”

“The eagle is Ravenclaw?” 

Basila smiled. “Yes, my housemates were lovely. My nicest memories of school. What house were you?”

“Ravenclaw as well,” Severus fudged. 

He wasn’t totally lying, the Sorting Hat had wavered between Ravenclaw and Slytherin before deciding. It was the right answer, as she grinned.

“Right, right. Best House. Anything but Slytherin right?” 

He shrugged. 

She tapped the tattoo with her index finger.

“It’s a reminder to myself to fight against those who abuse power, who prey on the weak. I won’t be bullied again you know,” she said fiercely. 

Severus leant back in his chair and looked at her intensely.

“No, I don’t imagine you will be,” he observed. 

She eyed him, and licked her upper lip quickly. “So anything I need to know?”

“You must move as fast as possible, the letters will go out soon, which means the children will then become targets. You will also be a target if anyone finds out you have this list and they will try to kill you. Stay in the muggle world as much as possible, the people that are after the children, they don’t know it at all, they won’t know how to track you. The money should help you if you need to pay for anything in the Wizarding world, but I’m sorry, I don’t have any muggle money I can give you.” 

“Don’t worry about muggle money, I had a heap from my deployments, never spent it,” she looked at him. “It’s like an operation, isn’t it? We should decide on a name.”

“I’m not sure that is completely necessary,” Severus said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Well, it’s what I’m used to, and since I’m running this op, we are going with a name. Let’s see....” she sat back, chewing on her lip. 

Severus sat back as well, it tended to relax people if he copied their body language. He needed to leave soon, holding the glamour in place was a drain on his magical stores. 

She suddenly laughed.

“Oh I’ve got the perfect one. Operation _Mongoose_. Get it? They’re small, and look weak but can be very fierce and take down larger animals, _especially_ snakes. Perfect right?”

Severus looked at Basila. She seemed very happy for someone that had just agreed to something very dangerous. She didn’t appear small or weak, but she did look fierce. 

He nodded. “Yes. Perfect.” 

He stood up. “I have to go now.” 

She stood as well, and looked a little disappointed.

“Right. Right. I thought we could have a quick drink, to seal the deal maybe.”

“I’m probably drinking too much as it is,” said Severus, and she laughed again.

“Oh, ditto I’m sure.” 

Severus thought of something else to address before he left. He summoned the pistol wandlessly and non-verbally, noting her look of shock as it flew from under her jacket into his hands.

“This will be largely useless against them unless you take them by surprise, and even then you’d probably only get one shot off before they took it. Stick with your wand, practice your shield spells. You can apparate?” he asked. 

She looked shifty. “I left school before I was old enough to take my test, so I don’t have a licence, but someone taught me in the ‘Ghan. I’m okay, but not perfect. I lost the tip of a finger once.”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a pile of shrunken vials, which he enlarged.

“I brought some potions as well,” he said. “These are Calming, these are Dreamless Sleep and these are Pain Potions. These here are Dittany, these Murlap—for healing.”

“Oh I remember _those_ ,” said Basila stiffly. “Thank you very much.”

“Don’t thank me,” said Severus a little angrily. “I haven’t done you any favours, this is very dangerous. You may even be killed.” 

“I figured that,” said Basila. “But I’m used to the feeling.” 

“It does get like that,” Severus agreed, it was nice to be truthful with someone for once.

“Will I see you again?” Basila asked suddenly. 

“I doubt it,” said Severus. “Good luck.”

“You too,” she said, and stuck out a hand. 

Severus looked down, then reached out his own palm and shook hers.

He left, glancing once behind himself at her. She looked tall and strong as she stood in her room with the sun shining behind her. She gave him a short wave and he nodded in response. He felt like turning and telling her to forget about it, that he’d changed his mind, but she seemed like the sort of person that wouldn’t listen in any case. 

She seemed brave and smart, and Severus guessed that was what the Ravenclaw traits brought to the equation. An intelligent person who could piece together a well-designed and executed plan and have the patience to follow it through. 

Imagine if the Order had been predominantly Ravenclaw, thought Severus, as he left the building and crossed the road, the war surely would have been over before it started. Remembering the camera outside her building he waited until he was in the back of a deserted lane until he dropped the glamours and apparated back to Hogwarts.


	8. The Deputy Headmaster

Back at Hogwarts Severus mentally ticked off Basila from his ‘To Do’ list. It was her task now, and whether she would do anything at all, it was in her hands alone. He had to focus back on Hogwarts and Potter now. So....Merlin help him....Mongoose....would succeed or fail entirely without his assistance. Operation names, bloody hell. 

Although, he suddenly thought, the _Order of the Phoenix_....

Oh shit, they’d done the same thing. 

He laughed, a little hysterically.

_Oh, that was tragic._

And then he thought of the ‘Dark Lord’ and he laughed even harder.......

_What a twat_. 

Severus put his hands behind his head and crossed his feet on the desk as he giggled. One of the portraits cleared their throat.

“Er Headmaster. I apologise for the interruption, but the Deputy is at the gates.” Said Dilys. 

Severus immediately sobered up. _Well this was going to be awful, no bones about it._

He glanced around the office, it seemed clear of anything that would suggest he wasn’t a Dumbledore-murdering, Voldemort-worshipping, muggle-hating, Bad to The Bone Death Eater. No, all seemed fine. He’d put the Trelawney hat in the drawer yesterday, it had been the last of his pre-Astronomy Tower personal items. Now they were all hidden away. 

He glanced at the foe glass, it was Minerva-centric presently. He waved a hand over it and the glass clouded. There was no use having Minerva peeking in at his thoughts. He wouldn’t want her getting the wrong idea, or even worse, the _right_ one.

Firstly, Severus changed back into his full school regalia, robes set to maximum billow. He sat behind his desk and stared critically at the chair on the other side. He decided to make it lower to the ground, so she would be looking up to him, and the legs uneven, to make her uncomfortable. She could easily fix these faults, but he predicted she wouldn’t. She’d be too angry. 

He had told the gargoyle downstairs to let her up without comment, which would also wrong-foot her.

He did not have to wait long. Minerva strode in to the office, repressed rage etched in her features and positively sparking out of her black hair. She stabbed him with a Avada Kedavra glare and sat in the altered chair which rocked slightly, unbalancing her and deepening the anger on her face. 

“Snape,” she hissed.

“Minerva,” nodded Severus, leaning back in his chair insolently. 

She glared at him.

“I would like to speak with the portraits,” she said, crossing her arms. “Alone.”

Severus met her glare evenly, with a neutral expression. He felt a stillness around him, as if something was holding its breath. 

He could see the path ahead clearly, allowing Minerva to speak with Dumbledore, having her as an ally, working through plans together and having someone to tell him it was going to be fine when it felt he would be crushed under the gigantic weight of expectations he was carrying. 

But he also saw the forthright Minerva struggling with the duplicity, and one mistake leading to everything bleeding out on the floor of the Manor. He would be dead, and there would be nobody to take forward Dumbledore’s orders, to assist Potter and his associates defeat the Dark Lord. 

“No,” he said. The stillness passed. “The portraits are bound to my wishes, and I. Do. Not. Wish. It,” he finished with an air of finality.

Minerva half-stood from the rickety chair. “Who are _you_ to deny me? Is there something you wouldn’t want Albus telling me?” she demanded.

“What Dumbledore has to say or hasn’t is of no consequence. He is dead,” Severus said coldly. 

Minerva stood fully now.

“By _your_ hand!” she shouted.

“Yes. By _my_ hand,” Severus said grimly. “You know what I am capable of, yet you insist on coming here and insulting me.”

“You just follow orders blindly, don’t you Snape? Like a dog,” Minerva snapped poisonously. 

“I do as my master bids,” agreed Severus. 

“As a _madman_ bids,” she retorted. 

Severus was struck by the urge to laugh. She was right of course. 

Then he suddenly remembered she _thought_ she was referring to Voldemort. He let part of the laugh leak out via a smirk, which he knew would infuriate her.

“You disgust me,” Minerva spat out, then looked surprised she’d said that thought out loud. 

Severus stood abruptly, and loomed over the witch ominously. Something deep inside his chest cracked a little when he realised it was fear in her eyes behind the bluster.

“Your perception of me is irrelevant. _I_ am Headmaster now. If you no longer feel you have relevance at Hogwarts you may tender your resignation right here and now.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you, leaving the children to you and your fellow Death Eaters? Well I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well then may I suggest perhaps restraining your venom?” Severus said silkily. “After all, how could you care for _the children_ as you put it, if you were fired for insubordination?” 

Minerva flushed with anger. He inwardly relaxed. He preferred her rage to fear.

“Well then.... _Headmaster_ ,” Minerva said through clenched teeth. “We need to discuss the first years. I am happy to take on the visits to the families this year alone.” 

Severus sat back down. “Thank you Minerva but there is no need. Everything is in hand.” 

Minerva looked obviously unsettled at this.

“But Headmaster, the...er....some of the families will need my particular assistance.” 

“It is in hand,” Severus repeated. “Your _particular assistance_ is not required.”

Severus could hardly bear the raw desperation on her face. _I have a plan_ , he wanted to tell her, _I have a plan_. But instead he sat behind the desk, presenting her with nothing but indifferent scorn. 

Minerva’s shoulders dropped slightly, he had defeated her. Part of him was glad, but part of him rose up to scream at her for giving up so easily.

“I will call a staff meeting soon,” said Severus. “To discuss the new curriculum and new staff.”

“Of course,” said Minerva tonelessly. “The curriculum and the Carrows.”

Severus was silent.

“And where’s Charity?” Minerva asked suddenly.

“As Ms Burbridge has resigned and been replaced, there is no need for her to report to Hogwarts,” answered Severus. 

_She was murdered in front of my eyes, Minerva, would you like to see the memory? I guarantee one hundred percent effectiveness in the prevention of sleep._ Severus thought savagely to himself.

Minerva sat there, looking furious.

“We are finished. I have work to complete,” Severus said, appearing as bored and dismissive as he could

“Yes Headmaster,” Minerva said, managing to make the deferential sound profane. 

She left.

After Minerva departed Severus sat there silently for a long time.

“Well played my boy,” Said Albus cheerily. “She doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“For all your supposed wisdom,” said Phineas snidely, “You fail to grasp when your input into a situation is not welcome.”

“Thank you Phineas,” Severus said haltingly. “That is enough.” 

He stiffened suddenly. “I am being summoned, I will return,” he stated loudly.

He left without a further word, or even acknowledgement of the portraits who called after him.

Twenty minutes later Severus in transfigured clothes was sitting in the third row of the Glasgow Film Theatre on cult night. He had got himself a Hagrid-sized carton of popcorn and was leaning back, trying to get comfortable and to push out and away the depressive thoughts. The usher who sold him the ticket said it was zombie night, and they expected a big crowd. 

Fifteen minutes after this Severus had found himself surrounded and adopted by a overenthusiastic and well-liquored Hen’s Night group, who kept eating his popcorn and screaming and laughing in his ear when the movies started. 

The Hen, Deedee he thought she’d said, kept insisting they constantly swapped seats throughout the movie so she could sit next to each friend at least once, thus maintaining a steady stream of giggling seat partners for Severus. 

It was impossible, Severus decided, to mope about Minerva wanting to disembowel him when excitable young women were passing him penis shaped candy to chew on and clutching at his knees and shrieking gleefully when someone was decapitated on the screen. It was like being attacked by a basketful of kittens. 

He’d declined the liquorice flavoured cock lollipop the size of his fist that Deedee offered him. He doubted he’d ever be able to look Kingsley in the eye again if he’d sat there sucking and licking that particular confectionary item in the darkened theatre. 

When the staff and eventually the students returned to Hogwarts, he wouldn’t be able to disappear like this. So Severus decided to enjoy the last few days of relative freedom. After he escaped the clutches of Deedee and her entourage he’d gone to a nearby bar and listened to a half-decent blues band before calling it an evening and apparating back to Hogwarts. 

He felt slightly better, and probably only would drink one bottle of wine that night. But he knew he would likely not sleep much, if at all. He had to send the letters, he had to give the list to Voldemort, he had to hope he had placed his fragile trust in the right person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Snape faked a summons to go the movies..... in his defence, I think he needed it.


	9. Phone a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on the story splits between:
> 
> Severus POV  
> Basila POV
> 
> these “——————“ indicate a POV switch

Basila cricked her neck. She was exhausted, having spent most of the night on the phone to her friend Chris as well as a host of other military associates. 

She looked around her room, there were stacks of sleeping bags in a corner, piles of dried food and bottles of water. These had been dropped off by her associates after she’d made a flurry of calls. They hadn’t asked why she’d needed the items, just turned up and dropped them off. She’d appreciated it. She’d cancelled all her classes for the time being, she was planning to use her room as her base of operations. 

After the man had left yesterday, Basila had jumped online to do a bit of research regarding evacuations during wartime, and was particularly intrigued by _Operation Pied Piper_ during the second World War. It seemed as if it was bloody awful for the children to be separated from their families and some were sent to abusive homes. 

The idea had merit, Basila thought, but she needed to move _whole families_ , not just the child in question. The man had said ‘hide’ but Basila disagreed with this, there was no hiding from this type of hate. So, she had picked up her phone.

Basila had met Chris in the ‘Ghan. He was in the Australian contingent, and part of a specialised unit. It took her a few weeks to figure out the unit were all wizards. One day she’d recognised the charm work they’d cast on their weapons to make them lighter to carry, as she’d done the same to her pack. 

Basila didn’t approach them about it for another week, but then made the jump after one evening meal. They been delighted to meet a witch, and had been confused they hadn’t met more. It turned out there were slightly different rules in Australian Wizarding society. They’d taken a lot from the British system but due to home-grown issues had just fudged the rest. They couldn’t use owls, and the distances had made it prohibitive anyway. So they kept in touch with muggle technology, and Chris—the unit leader—had told Basila there were lots of muggles that worked for the Australian Department of Magic—in information technology mostly. They signed a confidentiality waiver and it seemed to work for the most part. 

The Australians didn’t have a floo network outside major cities, and had to rely on apparation, brooms (for those brave souls prepared to pick large insects out of their teeth for days) and muggle transport to get anywhere remote. 

There were crossovers between both worlds with magical units in many areas of muggle government and society. Chris said there was a fusion unit working on setting protection wards around major infrastructure in case of natural disasters like flood and bushfire. It was heady stuff. 

She’d told him about leaving Hogwarts early and he’d confirmed that the issues that they’d faced in Europe had been well known in the Southern Hemisphere. He said it hadn’t been such an issue in Australia, mostly due to the plain fact that there were practically no pureblood families and most of the population was mixed blood of some sort. 

Purebloods in Australia were almost exclusive very powerful Indigenous families who had zero interest in the proselytising of a predominantly white extremist group. Potentially for their own amusement, Chris and the team had taken it upon themselves to finish her schooling and while they’d been in the ‘Ghan had taught her as much as they could regarding spells, charms, hexes and jinxes. Finally, before they’d returned home to Australia they’d given her a crash course in apparation. Basila and Chris had stayed in touch after she’d been medically discharged, and he had been a supportive ear regarding her trauma condition. 

Chris was happy to hear from her when she called, even though she hadn’t contacted him for a few months. Basila hadn’t planned what she was going to saying before she picked up the phone, but hearing his familiar voice unlocked something inside her.

In a steady stream told him about the man, the situation and described the list. She then told him she wanted to evacuate the families. One thing she could say about military people, Basila thought to herself, was that they were often prepared to accept the unexpected. 

When Chris asked her what she needed from him, she surprised herself by saying she needed him to organise a welcoming committee as she was going to send the families to Australia. She would, today, start getting the families together, and asked Chris call her back in a day with an update. Chris, used to following orders and a dab hand at figuring out when someone meant business, agreed. They’d parted amicably, wishing each other good luck. 

Basila sighed as she thought of the day ahead. She’d forgotten whether there was a pick-me-up potion—she vaguely remembered being given one at school, but she hadn’t been left one by the man. Instead she decided to find an enormous coffee, then she would start on the list. 

—————————————

Severus was at his desk, finalising the curriculum and planning the patrols for the year. 

He had to make it so the Carrows were never on patrol alone and their patrols didn’t intersect, but without seeming like he was obviously hampering them. He rubbed his eyes. He wished he had that map that Lupin had given Potter. It would have been a perfect way to keep an eye on everything. 

He also had the staff meeting coming up, which he absolutely did _not_ want to do. But honestly, what had he wanted to do in the past decade or so and actually got a chance to do? Ah, besides making his classroom a pants-wetting exercise for the majority of students. He smirked to himself, he had to take pleasure where he could. He found a hated one-dimensional persona made children _and_ adults feel you were very predictable, so they didn’t spend any time at all pondering whether you had any deeper, less obvious motives. 

Being a well-known total utter bastard was probably the best defence mechanism in his armoury. He was considering whether making Minerva patrol at the same time as Alecto would end with blood on the walls when he heard the tap of an owl. He stood to collect the letter and sighed when he saw it was from Lucius, requesting his presence at the Manor. 

Severus decided to get the visit over and done with. Knowing Lucius it could be anything from offering Severus the opportunity to join him in torturing a random muggle he’d decided to pop out and kidnap, to forcing Severus watch Lucius try on robes and tell him which one suited him the best. Both had been completely horrific experiences that he’d never wanted to repeat. How many different ways could someone even wear brocade anyway?

For the visit, Severus had kept his school regalia on. He wanted his current status in the forefront of everyone’s mind at the Manor. He was, after all, at Hogwarts under the specific direction of their Dark Lord, which would make them hesitate making too many efforts on his life. It wouldn’t stop them _completely_ , they were Death Eaters and tradition was tradition after all, but it did give him some breathing room. A House Elf directed him to a sitting room, where Lucius and Narcissa were uncharacteristically free from company.

“Ah Severus, thank you for accepting my invitation,” said Lucius. “Wine?” he offered. 

Severus looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“Thank you, yes,” said Severus, thinking fuck it, he had a bezoar in his pocket if it all went pear shaped. He also thought it unlikely Lucius would try anything in front of Narcissa, who, in direct opposition to everyone else in the entire world, appeared to actually _like_ him. 

“You seem to be missing some houseguests,” Severus commented casually, watching Lucius pour his wine, and noticing that Lucius’ hand was shaking.

“Yes,” said Lucius. “They are at the Ministry.” He didn’t look up.

“Ah yes. The change in government,” said Severus. “And our Lord?”

“He is travelling.”

Lucius handed the wine to Severus, who watched over the rim until Lucius took an exaggerated sip of his own. Severus, who wouldn’t put it past Lucius to drink an antidote first, lifted the goblet and let the wine touch his upper lip. If it didn’t do anything from that, he’d be more adventurous the next drink.

“Severus, we want to talk about Draco,” Narcissa said. 

“Hmm?” said Severus non-commitedly. He felt goose pimples on his arms, his inner self-preservation aspect suggested the conversation would soon take a turn that was very bad for his health.

“Our Lord wishes Draco to stay at the Manor, and assist in the—“ Narcissa paused.

“Cleansing of the population,” Lucius finished smoothly, but his left eye had a small tick.

“What a honour for Draco,” Severus commented. _Ah, so Draco would be dead soon._

“He is so...young,” Narcissa said.

“He is the age I was when you recruited _me_ Lucius,” said Severus, turning the goblet and appearing to be fascinated by the runes on the side. 

“He is not even close to how accomplished you were at the same age,” Lucius commented.   
Severus’ self-preservation was fully alert now and signaling wildly at him to abort the conversation. Instead, he inclined his head to Lucius to acknowledge the compliment, knowing Lucius would never had said something flattering if he didn’t want something very badly from Severus. 

“Severus,” Narcissa had put a gentle hand on his forearm, he turned to look at her. “We—“ she stopped suddenly, then began again. “ _I_ would prefer Draco return to his schooling.” 

This was her ace, Severus thought, to put it forward as a request from her, not Lucius.

“That is against the desires of our Lord,” Severus commented neutrally. 

Lucius’ eyes closed briefly in defeat. 

_Even monsters loved their children_ , Severus thought abstractly.

“He would serve our Lord better if he finished his schooling and was able to control his power,” Narcissa argued cannily. 

Severus admired her reasoning, but he knew what she was really asking beneath it all.

“You wish me to raise this with our Lord, as _my_ request.” Severus guessed. 

Narcissa nodded. Lucius sat silently. 

Severus met her gaze steadily, Dumbledore would absolutely lose his painted mind if he knew about this. A request like this could raise the ire of Voldemort and easily lead to Severus’ premature death. He thought of Draco’s face as he stalled in front of the defenceless Dumbledore and how small and lost he looked, even as those surrounding him bayed for blood. He sighed.

“Very well. I will ask.”

Narcissa reached over and took his hand. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, our Lord may refuse the request.”

“I’m thanking you for asking, regardless of the outcome,” Narcissa said. She released his hand and leant back, placing the hand on her husband’s knee. Lucius visibly melted under the touch, his eyes moist.

“I must return to the school,” said Severus, getting to his feet. “Thank you for the wine,” he said, somewhat stiffly. 

Narcissa stood as well. She hugged him. It was quick and somewhat more formal than warm, but a hug nonetheless. Severus wondered if she would still hug him if Draco wasn’t allowed to return to school and whether she would still thank him for asking if she had to end up burying her son. 

As Severus left the Manor he suddenly realised he was now trying to stop _two_ teenage boys getting killed as a direct result of decisions their parents made before they were born. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t even _like_ children and liked teenagers even less. And even worse, he was stuck helping out as a consequence of his soft feelings towards their respective mothers. God help the world if Molly had been nicer to him, he’d be looking out for what felt like fifty Weasley boys as well. 

Speaking of Weasley boys, Severus thought, there was always the option to seek an apprenticeship under the current undisputed world expert of keeping boys with a predilection for mortal peril alive—Master Granger. She probably had a ten foot scroll on each one, Severus scoffed to himself, with a column for strengths and one for weaknesses. _Potter, Tick for Expelliarmus, Cross for temper control. Weasley, Tick for volume of slugs vomited, Cross for amount of homework done independently._

To Severus’s best recollection, the decline in the quality of Weasley’s Potions essays correlated nicely with the sudden increase in Severus finding him and his tongue giving Miss Brown’s mouth a thorough examination in various castle nooks a year or so ago. 

What teenage girls (and to be brutally honest with himself, women in general) found attractive and worth a tongue wrestle continued to mystify Severus. He assumed Granger had got the shits with the whole Weasley/Brown merged entity (comprised of eighty per cent saliva and twenty percent hormones) and stopped helping Weasley—if the utter tripe he’d handed in on scrolls during class was anything to go by. 

If only he could hire Granger to add Draco to her stable of troubled male wards, it would be one less thing to worry about. Though...Severus assumed that after Draco had called Granger the M word, and she’d physically assaulted him as a result, it was unlikely Draco and Granger would ever come face to face again without hexes becoming immediately involved. So, unfortunately, Severus would have to retain the added stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know in canon Snape takes on 100% of the “I killed Lily” but here I made vague reference to the decisions that James and Lily made to stay in the war, in Britain, have a child then not running like hell when Voldy wanted to kill that child. 
> 
> Also, Australia has all sorts of weird things we half borrowed/copied from other countries, then had to dodgy it up so it works. So I thought the Wizarding society would be similar.


	10. The Welcoming Committee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder:
> 
> “————-“ designates where the story moves to a different POV

“We have the Ministry now,” Severus told Albus, who raised an eyebrow.

“ _We_?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Severus said. “ _We_.”

“You see yourself as part of them still then?”

“How I see myself is largely irrelevant,” shrugged Severus. “I _am_ part of them. Whether I am there for the wishes of the Dark Lord, or you, or myself is by the by.”

“You used to say _they_ earlier.”

“I did,” said Severus, looking away. He turned back to the portrait. “ _They_ attacked the Burrow...the wedding. Was Potter there?”

“He was,” Albus confirmed.

“Great,” said Severus sarcastically. How the hell was he going to keep Potter alive when he seemed hellbent on constantly putting himself right in the middle of it? 

“If I may intrude into this conversation,” Phineas said haughtily. “Potter arrived at my ancestral home not long ago.”

“Was he alone?” Severus asked. 

Phineas’ wrinkled his nose in a manner suggesting he had suddenly been exposed to an open sewer.

“He is with the Weasley boy......and the mudblood girl.”

“Phineas,” snapped Severus. 

The portrait uttered a painful sigh.

“I apologise Headmaster. Of course I meant, the _muggleborn_ girl,” he said in the oiliest voice he was able to.

“Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are still with Harry,” said Dumbledore. “Excellent.”

“Exactly what benefit is Mr Weasley bringing to the equation?” asked Severus nastily. “Are they going to challenge the Dark Lord to a Quidditch match? Winner takes all?”

“Perhaps an eating contest?” Phineas chimed in, sensing blood in the water. “He has already managed to demonstrate the most abhorrent table manners I have ever seen—“

“Thank you Phineas, that is enough,” said Albus calmly, “Mr Weasley and Miss Granger will each provide something Harry needs in order to complete the task I set him. You focus your concentration on what you need to do Severus, and let them—“

“Yes, Yes,” muttered Severus. “The world hangs in the balance of the actions of three children. Wonderful. Perfect.”

“Severus, I imagine the Ministry may come for the sword of Gryffindor in the near future,” Albus said, somewhat distractingly.

“Yes?” said Severus, looking up at the silver sword in the case above Albus’ portrait.

“That is a copy, let them take it, the original is hidden behind my portrait. At some point in the future, you will need to deliver the sword to Harry.”

“To........” Severus said questioningly, and Albus laughed.

“He will know the purpose, you need not.”

“I see.”

“The sword _must_ be taken under conditions of need and valour.”

“Of course it does,” sighed Severus. Of all the asinine.....bloody Gryffindors. “I’ll think of something. Never fear.”

“I’ll leave it in your capable hands Severus,” Albus said brightly, then slipped away out of his frame.

Severus leant back against the wall and rubbed his temples, he was developing a crippling headache.

“Phineas,” He said.

“Headmaster?” 

“I want you to keep an eye of the residents of a Number Twelve. A.... _subtle_ eye,” he clarified, shooting a glance at Albus’ empty frame meaningfully.

“Yes, Headmaster,” Phineas said slyly, a calculating expression stealing across his painted visage.

————————————

“I’ve found your guy here,” Chris said to Basila over the telephone. 

“Yes. Who?”

“He’s called Gough, he’s the Commander of the Aurors in my state. He’s connected to our Ministry and says they’re prepared to help out. He can talk our morning time, are you good to go?”

“Yep,” said Basila, looking out her office window into her room to the children and adults lying on sleeping bags reading, listening to various devices or sitting on plastic chairs talking worriedly with each other.

“We’re really sticking our necks out here. You trust the guy who came to you with the information?”

“Hmmmmm....as much as anyone I’d just met,” said Basila. She heard Chris laugh.

“You are so transparent Crossy. I think I can take a guess why you are so... _eager_ to help.” 

This time she laughed with him.

“Um maybe. But hot people need help too you know. They are a minority group after all. Besides—“ she was suddenly serious, “this is important. I _need_ to do this.”

“Well I’ll help out all I can. If it is as bad as you say, we need to move fast. I’ll call back with Gough in five hours.” 

He hung up. 

Five hours, Basila thought, she looked at her watch. She could probably get another family from the list in that time. There was one within an hour drive. 

Basila had garnered an amazing reputation in the conflict zone for her ability to gather and relocate non-combatants in very short periods of time, thus saving many lives. Nobody knew—though she suspected perhaps Chris and his unit guessed—that she’d used the Suggestability Charm in most of the occasions. 

She’d lay in her quarters inside the Green Zone at night, debating the ethics and morality of many of her choices in the conflict, but most particularly her use of magic on the civilians. She’d tried to placate herself by saying they would likely have been killed or injured if she hadn’t moved them, but in the last transport....they were nearly killed _because_ she had moved them. 

Kovopovic had been killed, and Basila had been very badly burnt. The women and children and their grandfather, protected behind her shield, had been unharmed. Small mercies really. Basila couldn’t return after that happened. Something in her had gone with Kovopovic, she didn’t know exactly what, except she couldn’t get into the transport vehicle again without having an anxiety attack. In any case, she hadn’t used the charm since then. That is, until now. She hoped it was the right decision.

———————————

Severus stood silently alongside Lucius and Yaxley as Voldemort dealt out his orders. Voldemort was angry that Potter hasn’t been found at the wedding and subsequent search of the Burrow. He’d been somewhat mollified by the taking of the Ministry and Crabbe had discovered Black’s will in the archives, outlining the gift of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place to one Harry Potter. Then, naturally, rage reigned supreme when it became obvious the residence was under the Fidelius Charm. 

Two Death Eaters had been deployed to the street, in case Potter was there and made a mistake which revealed his location. Voldemort had then queried as to whether Severus had known the location, and Severus had caught the blooming of a very nasty smile on the face of Bellatrix who was standing to his left.

“My Lord,” Severus had said. “It would give me no greater pleasure than to provide you with the location, alas Black never was convinced of my loyalty to Dumbledore, and subsequently I was not trusted with the secret.” 

He had lowered his head in faux despair for having failed his master, then lifted as if an idea had struck him.

“My Lord...one thought....what of Bellatrix? Black was her blood relative...perhaps...” 

His peripheral vision caught the smile sniffing out suddenly.

“Yessssss. Indeed he was. Severus, you are dismissed, Bellatrix, approach me.”

Severus smirked internally as he bowed and left, cocking an insolent eyebrow at Bellatrix’s colourless face as he departed. _Take that, you smug bint._ He returned to Hogwarts with almost a spring in his step.

When he entered the office an agitated Phineas was in his frame, blustering.

“Headmaster, the werewolf is currently in the home of my ancestors. I’m afraid I may have to ask you to burn it down—the fleas you see.”

“Phineas, is that your own particular brand of passive aggression intended to inform me Lupin is at Number Twelve?” Severus sighed.

Phineas sniffed unpleasantly, but nodded and Severus tapped his upper lip with his forefinger pensively.

“What did he want?” he asked, darting a look at Albus’ empty frame. 

“To offer his assistance to the current residents, and to provide an update on his breeding,” Phineas said. “Which is _extremely_ distasteful if you ask me.”

“Thankfully no one has,” Severus said distractedly, earning a curt look from the portrait. 

_Ah_ , so Nymphadora was pregnant. She had actually approached Severus after she’d convinced Lupin a relationship during wartime was a great idea (which felt like a millennia ago) and asked him whether lycanthropy was hereditary. 

Severus had informed her that it was not, although he was the bearer of bad news for her that all Lupin’s other disastrous genes _were_. This had earned him a broad smile, a light punch in the arm and a “you’re alright Snape” from her. 

She hadn’t been quite as happy when he’d briefly gone insane and asked her to seriously consider whether it was the right time to have a child. Or whether they should wait. Her and Lupin both were frontline soldiers for Dumbledore after all. “What’s the point?” Nymphadora had said “We could be dead then.” Which, Severus thought, was an even stupider reason. He was _definitely_ going to be dead and he wasn’t waltzing around trying to knock up witches left, right and centre. 

Well....of course....that could possibly have something to do with the requirement to convince someone to actually _have_ sex with him to start with, let alone repeat the act purposely aiming for reproduction. In saying that, there always were a few interested parties in the Death Eater cohort but Severus preferred his post-coitus self to be a) alive and b) to have all parts of his genitalia intact, so he was running on a bit of a dry spell —pardon the pun—at the moment.

“In any case, the boy refused him and sent him on his way,” Phineas continued, bouncing back surprisingly well from Severus’ comment.

“Thank you Phineas,” Severus said, and a flicker to the upper right indicated the return of Albus.

“Update Severus?” Albus asked almost immediately, reclining once more in his chair.

“They have placed a guard around where they think Number Twelve is,” said Severus. “Hoping to catch Potter and associates out.”

“The Fidelius Charm remains then. My boy, your resilience is impressive. Excellent.” Albus praised, eyes twinkling as much as the pigment allowed. 

Severus blinked. _Well that was unexpected._

———————————-

“Hello?”

“Basila, hi. It’s Chris obviously and I’ve got Jeremy Gough here with me.”

“Oh hello, thanks for the call,” said Basila, slightly nervously.

“Hello. Look Basila, Chris has briefed us on the situation. We have been following the, er, interesting developments in the political climate over there. We have been directed by our government not to reach out, it’s a bit dicey you see. Significant trust issues,” Gough said. He had a pleasant voice, calm and soft.

“Oh, I thought you might help. I see,” Basila said sadly. She felt disappointment tears pricking behind her eyes. What was she going to do?

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I apologise. We were told not to reach out, but we’ve been given free range to assist you in your....endeavour.”

“That’s....Excellent...really,” Basila sighed in relief.

“Firstly, Chris said you want to evacuate some civilian families here.”

“Yes. Muggles....er, do you call them that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. So muggles, with magical children. Muggleborn, um, it’s pretty dangerous to be one of them at the moment.”

“So we’ve heard.”

“Right. Well, I was given a list, the new students for Hogwarts complete with blood status of each student. I’m trying to get to them before their official letters go out and the Ministry is aware of who they are.”

“Chris tells me you got the list from a man you don’t know, but are prepared to vouch for.”

“Yes.”

“It’s a very difficult thing to get your hands on, that type of list, where did he say he got it from?”

“I didn’t ask for the source, that’s just bad manners,” retorted Basila. “He was on the level though. I’ve picked up four families already from the list, everything checks out.”

“Hmmmmm. What did this man look like?” Gough asked, somewhat probingly. 

Basila was glad it was a telephone call as she was blushing a bit madly.

“Tall, definitely over six foot. Maybe six two, or six three even. Slim build, dark hair, pale complexion. Um, quite handsome, if that helps.”

“I would say it helps him quite a bit,” Gough commented wryly, “We had a suspicion about someone, pretty long shot really, but your description isn’t....it doesn’t.....well it’s not him in any case, never mind though. Right. What do you need?”

“Places for them to go, homes, maybe interim stuff until they can access their bank accounts here, jobs eventually, schools for the kids. The right visas obviously. Some of them have passports but some don’t.”

“Passports? If we portkey them into our headquarters we can sort that out—“

“No!” Interrupted Basila. “No portkeys. Nothing magical. I’m doing it all muggle. I’ll be sending everyone via the airport. The Ministry will be monitoring everything else, we can’t risk it.”

There was silence on the other end of line. Then Gough’s even voice returned.

“Right. Air travel then. Fine. Well. We can organise Titre de Voyages to cover those without passports just to get them onto the plane, send us all the details and a photo via email. The embassy can drop them off at the airport for collection by your people. I’d say we could probably do a twenty four hour turn around. We’ll confiscate the documents once they arrive.” 

“Great,” Basila was gratified at how sure Gough sounded, quietly confident and thorough. 

“Agreed then. I think we have a good handle on next steps. We will start the welcoming party at this end, you keep ticking off the list and email us details of anyone that needs a passport. Once you book the plane tickets, send us the details so we can pick them up.”

“Yes. Thank you. How about we call again tomorrow, to check in?”

“Will do,” said Gough. He seemed to hesitate before speaking again. “Keep your head down right? These guys...they don’t mess around. They’re really nasty.”

“Don’t worry, I’m way ahead of you there,” said Basila grimly. They wished each other good luck and ended the call. 

She let out a breath. The first hurdle had been crossed, she had somewhere to send them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given I described Snape as tall in the other story, I had to make him a height that would align with people using that as a descriptor as opposed to “average height”.


	11. First flight

Severus watched idly as the quill was writing out the last of the Hogwarts acceptance letters. As each one finished it rolled itself up with a flourish then hopped over to him like a rabbit before rolling over so he could fix the Hogwarts seal. A steady stream of owls arrived at the great window to his back, then left once they had their scroll. He rubbed his eyes once the final letter was stamped and sent. He would now take the list to Voldemort and he briefly wondered if Basila and her animal-themed Operation were still on the case.

“Headmaster!” called Phineas.

“What?” snapped Severus, who was also half a bottle in and leaning back in his chair, feet on the desk.

“The Mud— the girl, she’s taken my portrait!”

“What?” Severus said, looking at the bottle suspiciously. Maybe he’d drunk more than he thought.

“I was being incredibly subtle-“

Severus laughed.

“Ahhhh, Granger caught you spying.”

“Excuse me, she did nothing of the sort!” Phineas retorted. “The girl held a copy of that festering sack of dross called a newspaper.”

Severus Summoned that day’s copy of the Daily Prophet. He usually skimmed it in the mornings to see who was dead, but it almost exclusively consisted of Death Eater propaganda now so he looked at it less and less. The headline screamed SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HEADMASTER and was made even more offensive by an image of him turning and scowling endlessly. 

He looked, Severus thought to himself, like the last person who should be Headmaster, or anywhere near children, or people in general really. In fact, he was the perfect model for inspiring a type of ward specifically designed to keep people from straying within a particular distance of a school. 

Severus glanced over at the foe-glass, which he had returned to pride of place on the desk. His appearance in the paper had obviously made an impact, with the faces in the glass flickering faster than he had seen before. A lot of unfamiliar faces, thought Severus, the usual prominence of Potter and this time, ah, even Hagrid. _Well._ He supposed it was nice to be wanted, even if what they wanted was him dead. 

Severus made the front page into a paper owl and amused himself by having it fly around the table before blasting it with a small ball of flame. 

“Did Granger put you in a cupboard then?” he asked in a bored tone.

“No,” Phineas said stiffly with a small medium of embarrassment. “Into a bag. It’s dark, but when she opened it I was able to discern piles of books, potions and clothes. Very messy mind you.” 

Severus immediately perked up with interest. _Oh you clever, clever witch._

“I’m afraid I have bad news for you,” he said slowly, thinking upon the turn of events.

“Hmmm?”

“I think Granger has taken you,” Severus informed the portrait, who gasped at him, not quite understanding. 

“Preposterous! A former Headmaster of—“

“Phineas, quiet. Granger, as much as it pains me to say, _isn’t_ a gormless fool like most of the other students. She’s obviously deduced you are bound to serve the current Headmaster, who of course is a terrible murderer.” Severus motioned to himself. “And to prevent you running back to me with all sorts of insights into their adventures, she’s decided to remove you from the equation.”

“By stealing my portrait. Outrageous cheek!” fumed Phineas.

“Calm yourself Phineas, I _think_ Granger has decided your access to the Headmaster’s office could be useful at some point and although she has decided to keep your eyes and ears away from the action for the time being, I anticipate she will bring you out at some point. This, of course, could prove very useful for me.”

“Indeed,” Phineas’ clever face became smug.

“If I could impress upon your good nature a little longer, perhaps you could check in on that frame every now and then. Just to see what you can see, if you get my meaning,” Severus said.

“It would be my pleasure Headmaster,” said Phineas and Severus was sure the man would go to the frame more often than not, looking to catch Granger out. 

As helpful as Phineas was sometimes, his views on blood purity aligned more with Lucius and Severus suspected any help Phineas provided was mostly as Severus was the first Slytherin Headmaster since Phineas himself. 

Severus poured another enormous goblet of wine and re-crossed his feet on the desk. He would take a Sober Up potion before leaving for the Manor but would drink the bottle first. Quite by accident, Severus had discovered the hazy nature of a slightly drunk memory was much easier to Occlude. As a result he tried to drink heavily—dead men don’t require functioning livers after all—around those moments that he felt may be difficult to hide due to the emotions associated with them. 

He suddenly, and unexpectedly, felt keenly for the teenage Granger—hiding the portrait of a curmudgeonly elitist old wizard in her bag, filled with things he assumed she had with her to try and research her way to Voldemort’s downfall. All the while keeping her friend alive, not knowing he was destined to die, it was all so depressingly pointless. 

Severus thought of all the pieces on the board acting independently with some frustration. He could help her and she could help him if this whole business wasn’t all lies within lies within lies. Somewhere, Severus imagined, there could be a timeline where he taught Minerva—and perhaps even Granger—Occlumency before he killed Dumbledore...and they knew the plan...knew everything. 

And then he and Minerva would sit in the Headmaster’s office at night while the Carrows stalked the empty halls, plotting together, drinking non-poisoned wine, ignoring Albus and advising the girl via Phineas. He imagined that timeline would have been.....not horrible. 

He looked at the goblet, it was empty, as was the bottle. He felt buzzy and warm, which explained his sudden down-spiral into positive feelings on irritating students and fantasy alternate universes. He put the goblet aside and reached for the Sober Up potion. It was time to go to the Manor.

He arrived at the front of the grandiose gate, startling one of Lucius absurd albino peacocks which promptly charged him. They were just like Lucius, blonde, beautiful, aggressive and utterly ridiculous. Severus pushed it to one side and entered the ostentatious front hall, making for the formal room where Voldemort generally held court. The Dark Lord was there, in the tall chair transfigured almost into a throne, with the ever-present and monstrous snake puddled around the long folds of his cloak.

“Severus. I assume you have not bothered to come here empty handed?” Voldemort said, looking down at Severus.

“My Lord,” Severus said, bowing. “I have broken the wards. The list.” 

He brought the list of first year students out from his cloak and held it out. Something that could possibly be classified as a smile— if the person doing the classification had never seen a smile...or a human...or those two things combined—bloomed across Voldemort’s face. Severus held back the whole body shiver that wanted very much to happen.

“I am pleased,” said Voldemort unnecessarily.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Severus said.

“My faithful Severus,” said Voldemort, almost indulgently, as if to a favoured child. “You rarely disappoint me.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Severus repeated. 

He had a stable of phrases which he secretly labeled _Things They Like To Hear_ that he used regularly and with great effect to both Voldemort and Dumbledore. Sometimes it meant he was repetitive, but neither seemed to notice, being so caught up in their own perceived magnanimity.

“Is there anything you require to assist you in your current position?” Voldemort asked almost lazily. 

Severus swallowed. It was now or never. “My Lord. I had...one idea.”

“I see. Yes?” 

“I, with the help of Alecto and Amycus, will ensure your curriculum is taught correctly and that the other staff know their place. But, I believe there is an opportunity within the student ranks.”

“Which is?”

“It would be beneficial to have a student, loyal to you, within the school to identify other students. Those that would be a boon to our cause and those that need....to have their attitudes _corrected_.”

There was a moment of silence where Severus’ brain gave him a short, silent but forceful lecture on Making Stupid Life Choices.

“Yes. I do believe you are right Severus,” Voldemort agreed thoughtfully.

“If I may, I would suggest the Malfoy boy. He is already enrolled and known to the other students.”

Voldemort sat back, releasing a small hiss from his mouth. “I have _other_ plans for him.”

“Which are surely more suitable. I apologise My Lord, I was not aware. The sons of Crabbe and Goyle may suffice as replacements, or perhaps the Parkinson girl. However, I have concerns...” Severus allowed himself to trail off. 

Voldemort frowned. “Concerns?”

“My Lord, I taught these students. Of all of them, young Malfoy was the brightest and showed the most potential.”

Voldemort sat impassively. 

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, thought Severus.

“However, he is weak. I feel that under my....particular instruction I could improve him substantially. Make him an asset to you, as opposed to a liability,” Severus said.

There was a drawn out moment of silence. Severus was stillness personified. Behind his mental walls he recited the lyrics to songs, long ones. He once got through the entire Stairway to Heaven twice during one of these awkward silences although he preferred No Surrender, because of the ridiculous nature of how it contrasted to the situation. It helped him stay calm.

“Yes. Take the boy. I look forward to seeing the _improvement_ ,” Voldemort said.

“Thank you, My Lord,” Severus said.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Voldemort added. 

Severus, who regretted a large proportion of his decisions on a daily basis, inclined his head in acknowledgment. He was dismissed.

He made his way to the smaller sitting room where Narcissa sat with a silent, blank and colourless imitation of her son.

“Draco,” Severus said, and the boy looked up at him. “Our Lord has decided you are to return to Hogwarts. Ready your belongings and I will expect you on the train. Report to my office as soon as you arrive.”

Draco nodded in relief; looking marginally more alive than he previously had a minute before. Narcissa stood and walked to Severus, placing her hand on his as it hung by his side.

“Severus. Thank you.” 

He looked down at her. “It will be difficult for Draco at Hogwarts. His allegiance will make him a target from some of the other students, and even teachers. I will do my best to protect him, but-“ Severus wasn’t quite sure what to say after that.

“I understand,” Narcissa said. She let her cool hand linger for a moments longer on his, then removed it and smiled.

“I am keeping you from your duties,” she said, in a faintly unnerving echo of Voldemort.

“Yes,” said Severus. 

He turned and left, rubbing his hand against his cloak. So few people touched him these days that he found it disconcerting when someone did.

————————————

Things _may_ have got a little out of hand, Basila admitted to herself. She hadn’t quite considered what actually constituted a ‘family’ when she’d started on the list. One family had elderly and quite frail grandparents living with them that couldn’t be left behind, two of the other children had divorced parents, who had subsequently remarried, and in one case, had another child. For those cases, the ‘family’ of one child in the list had suddenly morphed into four adults and six children—two families, not one. 

She’d emailed Chris and Gough in desperation, wondering if this would be pushing the friendship, _‘No worries’_ had been the one line response from Gough. She tried not to have them, worries that was, but it was hard. It felt like there was a lot to worry about. Maybe if they had more random deadly small things running about like they did in Australia it would provide a better priority system for worries. 

One of the men in Chris’ unit had cheerfully told her about being stung by a tiny jellyfish while he snorkeled one holiday. He had been kept in hospital, he’d explained, under morphine, for two days. The pain had been so bad still he’d begged the doctors to kill him. He’d shown her the thin scars on his calf. Basila had made a mental note to never swim in the ocean if she ever went to Australia. So in comparison to wishing yourself dead because of the amount of pain you were in, her worry was somewhere between that and stubbing a toe.

She counted the boarding passes again, for the third time. She was sending five families tonight. Her first “batch”. She’d driven to three different travel agents to buy the tickets, and bought the last ones online, using a travel credit card she’d loaded with money and could discard when empty. The man had said that _they_ didn’t know the muggle world, but one couldn’t be too careful after all. 

It was a good time to send some of the people, she thought as she looked out her office window, she was running out of floor space. Everyone had been fairly well behaved, but Basila wasn’t a fully fledged witch really, and didn’t have the stamina to maintain the charms for much longer. She would be relieved when they were at the airport. Basila tucked the passes into her jacket pocket as she stood up and leant out into the larger room.

“Okay, time to go!” She called to the first group. A number of adults stood, and motioned to their children, who stood as well. Basila smiled, trying to soften her features for the younger ones.

“Come on, adventure awaits!” She said, waving at the door. Some of the children laughed which lightened her heart considerably.

Basila piled them all into her van, and drove them to Heathrow, which was just, well, the worst. It really was. She parked, for an exorbitant fee, and hustled the families inside and past security. At the desk the three travel documents were waiting for collection, just as Gough had promised. This simple act of competence threatened to undo Basila, but she pushed that feeling down and away. She waved the families through immigration, watching until she could no longer see them. Then she sat, drinking a forty pound airport coffee until the monitors cheerfully announced the flight had departed. They were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The jellyfish described to Basila are called irukandji and can be found in the waters in the northern parts of Australia (Cairns etc). Basila is overreacting in regards to avoiding the ocean completely, stinger season is well known and advertised and largely confined to the very north, as well as there are lots of preparations that mean you can still enjoy the area during those times. I have not underestimated the pain, the sting is apparently incredibly painful and can cause heart attacks and can linger to some extent for up to two weeks. The more you know! :D
> 
> Also, you may have noticed the chapters sneaking out. My original eleven chapters is no longer. I’m extending it out a bit, going more into the crazy adventures of Snape during the horror year. Coz MyWitch asked. :-*


	12. Safe landings

The rest of the faculty were arriving later in the day and Severus had finalised the curriculum for the staff meeting to be held the next morning. He had woken early, knowing he had a great deal to accomplish that day. He had prepared lesson plans, probably pointlessly, for the Carrows who were complete morons. 

But he wanted them to at least _try_ to teach, as opposed to putting all their energy into torturing. He had made sure the Carrows never taught a combined Slytherin/Gryffindor class, that was just asking for trouble. Instead he paired the Slytherins with the Ravenclaws, who were smart enough to keep their mouths shut, and the Gryffindors with the Hufflepuffs, who would never go out of their way to antagonise a situation. 

It was a bloody mess, Severus thought, and the fiddling around the edges he was doing, well, he was kidding himself if he thought it would do any good. He was suddenly distracted from his machinations by a searing pain in his left arm, which was agonising, the worst he had felt in a long time. The Dark Lord must be very angry, Severus guessed. Clutching his arm, Severus quickly checked his desk drawer to make sure it was stocked with potions, he felt he might need them. He Summoned his robes and mask before turning and sprinting to the apparation point, his arm on fire. 

When Severus arrived at the Manor he realised he had been a little wrong in his estimation of the situation, Voldemort was not very angry, he was in a violent, uncontrollable rage. From what Severus could gather before he was struck down by a violent and wild slashing hex, Potter and his friends had infiltrated the Ministry, freed some muggleborn witches and stolen something. 

That was about all he understood before all he knew was pain and the screams of those around him. He’d once read a very interesting muggle psychology text on how people could sometimes dissociate during moments of extreme trauma, but he hadn’t once had the pleasure. No, his mind always seemed to want to stick around during these moments, on the off chance it would learn _something useful._

He hoped it was learning something now, thought Severus as he bit deeply into his lip as he spasmed, otherwise he would be pissed. Within the enduring waves of pain, it seemed like hours passed before Voldemort, who had finally spent his displeasure, had ordered everyone to leave the Manor. 

Severus’ mouth was full of dirt and blood, which he decided was only just a little bit more disgusting than the last packaged mystery meal he’d consumed, and with probably almost the same nutritional value. 

He was bleeding to death. 

He knew this. He was weak from loss of blood, and had messed up his apparation so had arrived outside the Hogwarts gates. Severus closed his eyes briefly, trying to draw on his power, to make it to the Headmaster’s apparation point. He opened them again in frustration as he realised he was too weak. 

_Well, this sucks,_ he thought to himself. 

Severus’ mind raced, trying to put together a workable solution to his current predicament that wasn’t just lying back and dying. Severus’ body decided a brief lapse into unconsciousness would greatly assist this process. He awoke to a feeling that someone was there, and a crack of his lids saw a pair of familiar shoes in front of him. 

It was Minerva.

He had no way of knowing how long she’d stood there, watching him. He faded out then back in. 

_Ah, she was gone._

Well, Severus thought, he couldn’t really blame her. He wasn’t really worth hanging around to save. So, he sighed inwardly, dying out the front of the Hogwarts was how it was going to be then. Excellent. The bloody school had finally killed him, took it long enough and it certainly had its share of chances along the way.

_Dumbledore will be very disappointed in me,_ Severus thought hazily. 

“Oh my—is that Severus?” He heard a voice, shocked, questioning....what was the name again? His mind was not working. Flitwick. Yes, that was right.

“He looks dead, look at all the blood,” said someone else worriedly, a woman, high voice, Trelawney. Probably. 

He felt a diagnostic spell.

“No. He isn’t. Nearly, but not yet,” Flitwick said

“What should we do? He killed Dumbledore. He’s a murderer.”

“Yes......But we aren’t. I think....I think we should take him to the Headmaster’s office.”

“Are you sure? I think Minerva—“ a worried probable Trelawney started to say.

“If Minerva wants him dead she can kill him herself. I won’t do it for her. He’s likely dying anyway.” 

“If you think it is best,” said Trelawney uncertainly.

“Think carefully Sybil, he is likely well thought of by He Who Must Not Be Named, after...let’s say...what he did here. If they think we killed him, well, I don’t like to imagine what they will come and do to us. We must act in the best interests of the children, and that means staying alive and staying at Hogwarts. Come on, let’s levitate him inside.”

Severus’ vision blackened as his body lifted off the ground, the patter of liquid hitting the ground under him and he felt nothing more until his cheek was very cold. 

He blinked, oh...he was crumpled against the gargoyle that guarded the stairs to the Headmaster’s......no....to his office. He groaned, the gargoyle looked down, paused, then silently opened the passage. 

Severus told his body to harden the fuck up, and he dragged himself painfully up the stairs to the office, his hands raw when he reached the desk. He scrabbled desperately at the drawer until it miraculously opened and he pulled it out completely on top of himself, the potion vials falling onto his chest. He immediately downed three blood replenishing potions and lay on the floor until he felt well enough to sit up and start casting the spells needed to close the gashes in his skin. 

After he closed the largest ones, raggedly done but enough to stop the steady blood loss he drank two more blood replenishers. Now he could see well enough to shed his robes and coat, applying Dittany to the shallower cuts across his chest and down his stomach, easy to access through his shredded shirt. He pulled the shirt off completely with disgust as the patches of drying blood were sticking to his bruised flesh and sat against the wall, exhausted. 

“Headmaster,” said Dilys in a concerned tone. 

“I’m fine. ....I’m fine,” said Severus, closing his eyes. The portraits were muttering angrily to each other, but it was all just indistinguishable gibberish to him in his current state.

“This is too much,” insisted Armando angrily. “You have asked for too much Albus.”

“Severus is stronger than you think,” Albus said steadily . “He shows great bravery, the Sort—“

“Close your mouth you insufferable man,” Phineas cut in coldly. “We all heard your insulting remarks regarding the Headmaster’s Sorting. Which House would you prefer. _Gryffindor_? If only your head was full of something other than candied apples you’d realise that the Headmaster is only able to pursue your foolish task _because_ he is Slytherin not despite it. Your barely concealed disdain is a disgrace.

“Phineas,” Albus said warningly.

“Albus,” Phineas replied mockingly in the same tone. 

“Just. Shut. Up!” Severus shouted. “Everyone, please, just......shut up.” 

Silence. 

He felt ill and could only assume he had swallowed a lot of blood. What a pleasant thought. He cast _Tempus_ which indicated he had been gone for four hours. Time flies when you are having fun, Severus thought, he would have swore it was more like seven or eight hours. 

The staff meeting was only a few hours away. He cast a diagnostic which indicated some broken ribs and bruising, but slightly disappointingly indicated he was going to live. Severus muttered a _Ferula_ as he stood gingerly, which provided welcome support to his ribs and accio’d a clean shirt and robes which he donned carefully. He decided to go back down the stairs to survey the damage.

There was a large pool of drying blood outside the gargoyle, red handprints clawing across the gargoyle itself, and drag marks going past it into the hidden staircase. Severus surveyed the scene critically, and wondered...to leave or not? 

On one hand, it was ghastly, and would surely be unsettling to the staff members as they arrived for the meeting. However, Severus countered to himself, it also showed the Carrows how badly injured he had been and for Flitwick and Trelawney, would be a stark reminder of their actions. He tapped his lip thoughtfully......no.....it made him seem vulnerable. It had to go. A non-verbal _Tergeo_ eradicated the gore, leaving the area clean again. 

As if it had never happened.

————————————

Her telephone was ringing, and Basila took a breath before answering.

“Hello?” 

“Hello. We’ve picked up your packages. They’re all in one piece, although everyone agreed that the flight was a bit hellish,” Gough drawled on the other end.

“Oh well. I couldn’t afford to spring for business,” Basila said laughing.

“Well they’ve all been put up in a hotel currently for the minute. I think the adults wanted to sleep but the kids found there was a pool.”

“Excellent,”” Basila laughed even harder, she felt relief bubbling up like a fountain. They’d got there. Safe. 

“We’ve put together a briefing for the adults, your charm has warn off and I think some of them were a bit confused as to having so happily agreed to suddenly permanently emigrate,” Gough said, and Basila imagined she could hear a note of recrimination, but she was probably imagining it.

“Er...um...”

“Basila. It’s all okay. What were you going to do? Stage a four part musical convincing each adult?”

“Still...charms on muggles.”

“Yes. I agree there are some...morality issues at play here. But I feel it is a particular unusual circumstance. How about this, if they change their mind after our briefing we’ll send them back.”

“Er...”

“Trust me, _no one_ is going to want to go back. No one. It’s a pretty savage briefing. They’ll be naming their future kids after you.”

“How...disturbing,” said Basila, but she was smiling again.

“Rightio, good luck with the next shipment,” Gough said cheerfully.

“Will do,” Answered Basila, and hung up.

Across the other side of the globe, Commander Gough put his phone back on the table. Chris sat across the table, flicking through a copy of the British Wizarding newspaper a contact at the Embassy had obtained and sent across.

“So this is the guy you thought gave Basila the list,” said Chris, gesturing at the front page.

“Initially. Maybe. It would certainly explain how they got the list,” Gough hypothesised.

“Doubtful verging on impossible,” said Chris. “I wouldn’t describe him as Crossy’s type, or anyone’s really. He probably wanted the job running a boarding school so he could sneak around at night drinking fresh blood.”

“So...only beautiful people can do beautiful things? Mate, the world is full of beautiful people doing ugly things and vice versa,” said Gough, checking some scrolls in front of him.

“Nah. I meant, well Crossy has a bit of a thing for this guy, and she only met him one. It’s not his personality that she’s interested in. Trust me, this _isn’t_ him.”

“Maybe he wore a disguise,” proposed Gough. 

Chris snorted to indicate his feelings on the matter.   
“There is literally not enough magic in existence to fix that face. Look at him. This is the type of guy that hates the world and everyone in it.” Chris said defiantly.

Gough walked around the table and looked over his shoulder at the scowling figure in all black. He shrugged. There wasn’t a lot of point arguing with Chris about it, he had to attend a meeting with the Principal of _their_ school. Who, at last check, wasn’t a murdering traitor...so they had that over Britain he supposed. 

The school year was almost over so there was little point trying to squeeze kids in now, although the muggle schools had all indicated they could take them straight away. So Gough and his crew had decided to enrol all the children into the local school, and have some “out of session” lessons for the muggleborn, and at least get them fitted with a wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flitwick always struck me as someone that thought things through to the logical conclusion before acting.


	13. Faculty meeting

Basila rang the doorbell of a very lovely detached house in Hulme, Manchester. She was at the house of little Fern Villaroy, and hoped everything was going to work out smoothly, like the others had. She had one hand in her pocket, gripping her wand, the Suggestability charm on the tip of her tongue. Basila heard an excited scream from inside and the door was pulled open to show an older girl, possibly thirteen, with an excited expression that rapidly dropped to annoyance.

“Well _you’re_ not Professor McGonagall! Who are you?” Demanded the girl.

“Wait, what?” Said a confused Basila, charm forgotten for the moment.

“Mum!” The girl shouted. “There’s someone at the door.” With a backward look of withering annoyance that only a preteen girl can deliver, she stomped off. A woman, presumably ‘mum’, came to the door.

“Yes? Can we help you?” She asked.

“Oh. Um.....that is....er your daughter thought I was going to be...someone called Professor McGonagall.”

“Ah, that’s a teacher at her boarding school.” Replied the woman, looking a bit sheepish.

“Oh, not Hogwarts?” Basila asked. The woman’s face broke into a relieved smile.

“Yes! Oh. You’re one as well, come in, we got the letter this morning.” She waved Basila into the house and herded her to the kitchen. A letter from Hogwarts, signed by the Deputy Headmaster Minerva McGonnagall and sent on behalf of Headmaster _Severus Snape_ lay on the kitchen bench. Basila shuddered involuntarily when she saw his name, the Death Eater. the one the man warned her about. So...the letters had gone out, she had to move faster.

“You’ve got the letter.” Basila said slowly, stating the obvious and earning a curious look from the woman.

“Yes. I mean, just like we got the one for Stephanie. Last time Professor McGonagall came to visit and told us everything. It was a shock, but explained a few things and also meant my husband and I hadn’t been hallucinating about a baby levitating toys. We couldn’t believe when we got this letter, it must be some type of recessive gene, I’m not sure, do you know?” She asked Basila. She’d been making tea during the whole speech and passed across a cup, pointing to milk, lemon and sugar.

“I’m sorry I don’t. My parents aren’t magical either.” Basila said, taking the cup, she liked her tea black.

“Oh!” Said the woman delightedly. “Steph! This lady is a witch like you and her parents are like me and your Dad!” She called out over Basila’s shoulder. There was no reply. The woman shrugged.

“Kids. So, my name is Sally, my husband is Tom, he’s at work. I’m at home with the girls today, they told me we had to be here as Professor McGonagall would be visiting.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Said Basila. Sally laughed.

“They’ll get over it. I wanted to ask a few questions anyway, I know children are prone to exaggeration but Steph told me some pretty scary things about her school, I wanted to talk to Professor McGonagall about it, to see if we would send the girls this year.”

“There are things we should discuss.” Agreed Basila.

“Steph said this man,” Sally pointed at the name Severus Snape on the letter, “was her teacher, who she said was a bit scary, and he killed the other Headmaster. I mean, that’s insane. That’s surely not right?” Basila sighed.

“It’s right. He did. That world, the Wizarding one, it’s hard to conceptualise if you aren’t part of it. It’s like living in the past and in the future simultaneously. The rules, the way people are. It’s hard to describe.”

“Well I can tell you right now. I’m not sending any of my children to a school where adults are murdering each other and this apparently doesn’t disqualify them from _being in charge of children_.” Sally said angrily, her voice rising as she became more passionate at the end of her sentence.

“I agree. But listen, it’s much worse than you think. This other guy, he’s like, taken over everything. He hates muggles...um...non-magical people, hates people like your children, who are magical but whose parents aren’t. He wants to get rid of them.” Basila said, wincing at how badly she was explaining it.

“What do you mean, get rid of? Do you mean...” Sally paled.

“Yes. He wants to kill them.” Basila said starkly.

“That’s it, no Hogwarts.”

“The letter, it came to your house, they know where you live, where the girls live.” Basila said and Sally gaped at her.

“Are you saying they will come here, for them?” Sally said haltingly. Basila nodded.

“I have to call the police.” Sally said, reaching for her phone.

“No!” Basila almost shouted, Sally looked at her in shock.

“I mean, no, there is no point. They would kill them too. You have to leave, all of you. Today. That’s why I’m here, to help you get away.”

“Get away to where?” Sally asked.

“To Australia.” Basila said. “You’ll be safe. The girls will be safe.”

——————————————

The problem with his life, Severus thought as he surveyed the Headmaster’s office, was that nothing about it could be left to chance. Everything had to be planned, prepared, strategised. The times when he indulged in impulsivity and simply reacted to situations traditionally went Very Bad, very quickly. So, in order to avoid Very Bad experiences, he tried to plan. Severus rated his success at planning over the years on a dichotomous scale of Pass and Fail. As a child he lay in bed at night planning what to say and how to act so his father wouldn’t be angry (Fail), he meticulously planned interactions with Lily so she would stay his friend...or perhaps become something more (Fail), he planned his rise amongst to Death Eaters so he wouldn’t feel like such a loser (Pass followed by an immediate Fail) and so on and so forth with almost every single moment of his life. No wonder he felt completely exhausted. Severus wondered if other people did the same, he didn’t imagine they did, otherwise why would they appear to just be making it up as they went along? It also explained why everyone seemed to make so many stupid decisions so frequently. It frustrated him that this sensible approach had led him to such an unhappy place, whereas everyone else’s _who gives a shit_ attitude apparently panned out just fine more often than not. Stupid unfair life. He kicked the leg of his chair petulantly, which hurt his toe and perfectly reaffirmed to him why impulsive acts were a stupid idea.

He returned his attention to the office. He’d set the chairs out for the staff meeting and he was very confident the staff would seek out the same chairs they sat in every meeting for the past decade or so. Thankfully people were largely predictable. The two seats spare, by some strange intersection of chance and luck, were to the far right, where he and Charity used to sit. She would often bring a muggle notebook to the meetings and would sit there silently, crafting dirty haiku summarising the discussions happening around her. It was hard to keep a straight face when he would sneak a peak and she even ripped out a page for him once that had one about Hooch and her broom. It was in a drawer in his chambers, bookmarking the smutty novel. Those chairs, Severus sighed deeply as he focused back on the present, they would be left for the Carrows. He walked around and sat where Minerva would and looked towards the chair behind the desk. There was a small cupboard behind the chair, and he had carefully placed his Death Eater robe and mask in there and left the door ajar, providing a glimpse of them. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but if someone sat in one of the chairs on the left side they would spot it sooner rather than later. If he made it so the staff avoided making extended eye contact with him, their eyes would scan and find it. It would be a reminder of many things, Dumbledore’s death, Severus’ role in it, his true allegiance and who was now in control the school. Sadness, anger, and feelings of helplessness all were useful in keeping the staff unbalanced, wary and easier to manage.

Severus stood, satisfied until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room. Ah, something else that needed to be addressed. He was looking particularly unpleasant and like he’d just gone a week without sleep or bathing, which wasn’t that far from the truth. The sleep definitely. This, of course, required more careful thought. Was it better to look like he was having a rough time of it, so they would underestimate him, or look well rested so he would seem unaffected by the situation? Decisions, decisions. Severus decided he needed to look strong and unemotional, which meant a glamour and Occlumency shields at their most potent. It gave the cold, unfeeling look that he required, but he worried sometimes it was bad for him, and he never liked keeping them like that for long. Just in case one day he couldn’t get them back down and he couldn’t re-experience any of those amazing emotions like regret, despair and self-loathing. A virtual banquet of delightful nostalgia.

By the time the staff arrived Severus was sitting behind the desk, his hair swept back from his face, his brow smooth and untroubled and his lips twisted sardonically. The portraits slumbered, or approximated it, as requested behind him. Pamona and Hooch were in first, studiously looking through him, followed by a ruddy-faced Slughorn and a hesitant Trelawney. Minerva and Filius were the last of the old crew to enter, followed closely by the smug faces of the Carrows. Severus observed all this impassively. Sometimes when he Occluded strongly like this it was almost like watching everything through a telescope—he observed everything but was touched by nothing. For example, later once he dropped the walls he would agonise over the visible loathing written across the faces of his former colleagues but at present the feeling slipped down and away.

“Welcome.” Severus said, as if he hadn’t just spent over an hour making sure they felt the completely the opposite. “I shall endeavour to make this as quick as possible as I’m sure we all have more.....important things to attend to.” He swept an icy glance over the room. He flicked a hand and papers slid across in front of each staff member.

“Here is the curriculum for the year. I expect to see and approve your syllabi before the beginning of the term. There will be no alterations.” Most of the staff cast a quick glance down at the paper in front of them.

“Regarding discipline. All disciplinary incidents must be reported to me,” he saw Minerva and Pamona share a quick look, “with no exceptions. I will personally approve all requests for detention.”

“Sev—..er...Headmaster, surely this is unnecessary and a burden on your time. As Head of my house I have the appropriate authority—“ Flitwick started to say.

“No exceptions.” Repeated Severus, cutting him off. “I will decide what is an unnecessary use of my time. There has been a change in authority and Hogwarts must adjust accordingly. Horace—“ Slughorn looked up nervously, “you will be Head of Slytherin House.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Stammered Slughorn.

“You will find details regarding your charges in your office.”

“Yes. Thank you....Headmaster.”

“For those of you who have not been formally introduced, we have two new staff members in our faculty. Alecto Carrow, the new Muggle Studies Professor and her brother Amycus, who will be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts.” Severus indicated the siblings with a nod and inwardly smirked at the barrage of murderous glares they received. Severus was particularly impressed with the shade that Sybil was throwing, he didn’t know she had it in her. From the corner of his eye he noticed Sinestra working herself up to something until finally she obviously couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Headmaster.” She burst out.

“You have something to say Aurora?” Severus drawled with an air of menace. _Please don’t have anything to say._

“Yes. I do.” She said, unable to hide the anger colouring her voice. He saw the Carrows lean forward slightly in their chairs, spoiling for a fight. Oh Merlin she was going to get herself killed. Did no one else have any type of self-preservation instinct? Was the whole year going to be a game of guess which suicidal comment someone will make today?

“Then by all means, please go on.” Said Severus. _Shut up, shut up, shut up._

As Sinestra opened her mouth an enormous yawn echoed out from behind Severus’ head. All eyes flicked up to the wall behind him, then back down and across to Sinestra, then to his face. Phineas. Severus laughed hysterically behind his walls, he was officially Losing His Mind.

“I want—“ Another yawn interrupted her, This one positively dripping with boredom. Sinestra shut her mouth furiously, glaring up at the portrait. “No Headmaster. I have nothing to say.”

“As you wish.” Severus said. “Submit your lesson plans to me by the end of the day. You are dismissed.”

The staff looked surprised at the curt order, but stood and filed out gifting him with less obvious versions of the looks previously directed at the Carrows. The Carrows themselves looked put out, probably because they had sniffed the possibility of bringing down another staff member but Phineas had cut that off at the pass. When the room was empty Severus folded his arms and glanced up at the portrait. Phineas looked back innocently.

“I apologise Headmaster.” He said obsequiously. “I was tired. The chair I have access to in my portrait is exceedingly uncomfortable.” The other portraits were staring at Phineas, except for Albus, who had left his frame.

“Apology accepted.” Said Severus. He thought longingly of the Firewhiskey in his chambers. But he had to keep this memory clear, as the Dark Lord would definitely want to view it. If he left now for the Manor to report in there was the rest of the night spread out enticingly before him to get completely ratfaced. He sighed, surely it wasn’t a great sign to plan out drunkenness in this way. Nevertheless, no time like the present. He stood, dropping the glamour and immediately reverting to a piece of human wreckage then went to collect his cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my friend CT whose impressive posting schedule has prompted me to keep to one as well. RESPECT. WIPs are tough.... o_0


	14. The Welcoming Feast

Teenagers, Basila decided, were the most awful things on the planet. She was driving the van back towards Southall with Sally, a bemused Tom, Fern and a very upset Stephanie. After Tom returned from work, Basila had sat down with both of them to discuss the issues at hand. The older girl decided to eavesdrop on the conversation and upon hearing they would almost immediately be leaving their whole lives behind, threw a terrifying tantrum and locked herself in her room. Both parents had tried to coax her out to no avail. Basila, fuming and running on a short fuse herself, had drawn her wand. She’d unlocked the door easily and gone inside to find the teen lying on her bed crying. Sally and Tom followed her and found a grim faced Basila shrinking and packing their daughter’s room as she was screamed at. Their faces as they watched her perform the spells were....well something else really. It’s what convinced them in the end, those small, harmless, domestic spells were a stark example to them of how vulnerable they were against what was coming. They looked at her in the same way as the families did in Afghanistan, thought Basila sadly, with a strange mixture of awe and fear. Although she had a wand instead of a rifle she was still representing an invading force to some extent.

She sighed to herself as she changed lanes on the motorway. Both parents had insisted they would only be temporarily relocating, arguing they couldn’t be expected to leave their entire lives behind permanently “ _Just because you say so_ ”. Basila shrugged at them, that’s exactly what a host of other people in another country had done, and everyone had thought it fairly sensible at the time. But she waited patiently while they called their respective workplaces and said they needed to travel urgently due to a sickness in the family and she drove them to a post office to redirect their mail to a postbox. What did it matter to her, Death Eaters wouldn’t even know what a postbox was, let along how to track the mail. Fern was a bit goggle-eyed about the whole deal but Stephanie was fuming and was not shy about letting her feelings about the entire experience show in every loud sigh, dragged foot and glowering looks. While the parents had been rushing around, Basila had made a quick call to Gough. She’d needed a travel document for Fern, she would email a photo to him. Gough said he’d rush one through and would do a half-day turn around. She wanted this family out of the country as soon as possible, Stephanie was a known quantity, registered with the Ministry, enrolled at Hogwarts and they would come looking for her.

Basila had watched as the parents carefully locked their house and set the alarm, she decided not to mention that everything they just did was pointless. Tom then carried Stephanie to the car. Basila had cast a Silencing charm on the girl after she had threatened to scream if they tried to move her. There was a period of failed negotiation, attempted bribery and then vague threats from Sally and Tom which had all been met with stony resistance from the girl. They had looked helplessly at Basila. She had mentioned the spell, after she’d explained it wouldn’t hurt Stephanie they’d given permission for her to cast it on their daughter. Even after Basila had said the girl was fine Sally had cried for fifteen minutes, it had made the drive very stressful. Basila had stopped in an emergency bay after driving for half an hour and reversed the charm. Stephanie had been so shocked at what had happened she hadn’t said a peep since. All members of the family were completely subdued and kept sneaking horrified looks at her. The situation had graduated from “a bit messy” to “complete shitfight”. Basila didn’t think Sally and Tom would name a child after her.

——————————————

Severus was in the office, trying to draw on some energy reserves before he faced the entire school at the Sorting and subsequent Welcoming Feast. The older students were in their dormitories unpacking and the first years were being taken across the black lake in very small and rickety magical boats led by a half-giant with a tendency towards absentmindedness—all perfectly safe of course. Draco had come to his office as requested, and Severus had told him to keep his mouth shut and head down for the first few weeks until things had settled. The boy had looked desperate to say something, but then he didn’t, merely nodded and stood silently until Severus told him to leave.

Severus was buttoning his cloak, again choosing one that was the most intimidating. Not a hard choice, he only owned three school robes and they were all intimidating. How he hoped the staff wouldn’t try anything at the feast. He looked at the foe-glass and rolled his eyes. Potter _again_ , honestly didn’t the boy have anything better to do than obsess over him? Flittering images of Weasley sparked behind Potter, but no Granger. Severus groaned aloud, where was she now? He would prefer not to have to keep track of every student he had ever taught.

Severus, with some reluctance, turned to the wall of portraits.

“Any news from Granger’s bag?” Severus asked Phineas.

“Oh, not really. It’s a fairly dour atmosphere in the tent.” Phineas Said vaguely. Severus looked up sharply.

“Tent?”

“Did I forget to mention? They are in a tent now, they are no longer befouling my house.”

“As a matter of fact you did forget to mention that.” Severus said from between clenched teeth. _Bloody Phineas_. Sometimes the sporadic moments of helpfulness he exhibited lulled Severus into a false sense of security and he momentarily forgot Phineas was a horrid, judgemental old windbag with a penchant for stirring up trouble.

“It must have slipped my mind.” Said Phineas in a shifty manner.

“I see.” Said Severus. Phineas withered slightly under his glare.

“It is miserable there Headmaster, the girl cries over the bag, my beautiful frame...I’m sure it is peeling due to the damp. It’s an antique you know, priceless. I’ve told you before, this type of weakness is typical of someone from _that type_ of bloodline.”

“Crying? What....why is she crying?” Severus asked, ignoring the reference to Granger’s heritage. He was too tired to get into an argument about it. If Granger was falling apart Potter was as good as dead.

“I’m sure I have no idea what upsets young witches these days.” Sniffed Phineas. Severus took a deep breath and calmed himself.

“Then. Go. And. Find. Out.” He ordered, earning a curled lip and a spiteful tut from the portrait. But the wizard eventually skunk, muttering under his breath, out of his frame.

“Severus.” Albus said. “You mustn’t lose focus. I anticipated Harry would face challenges in pursuing his task, but he has the fortitude to see it out.”

“Blast Potter. For once see the wood for the bloody trees Dumbledore. They are children and it doesn’t surprise me they are cracking up. If they lose Granger they lose any chance of one brief second of pre-thought going into any stupid idea that pops into their tiny minds. And then the next thing you know, I’m attending the _I Killed Potter_ victory celebration and muggle raiding is every Tuesday and Thursday night with alternating Saturdays.” Severus ranted. It occurred to him he was probably overemphasising with Granger and that any anger on her behalf was actually coming from his own gradually building feelings of helplessness and a general sense of being overwhelmed. He remembered Phineas’ description of the bag, with books and potions and clothes. Granger was a planner too, he decided, which, looking back, explained a lot of things. The potion riddle, figuring out the basilisk before anyone else, the polyjuice catwoman debacle......okay....well....maybe she wasn’t _great_ at planning but that would come with practice. If she survived the combined idiocy and recklessness of cyclone Potter and hurricane Weasley that is.

“All will be well Severus. Have faith.” Said Albus calmly.

“Easy for you to say, you’re dead.” Retorted Severus.

“That I am.” Albus agreed.

————————————————

“Are you okay? You sound terrible.” Chris said to Basila. She held back a sob, but it made her voice thick.

“It’s going a bit pear shaped here, I don’t think I’m doing well at all. I used a few charms on a kid.” Basila said into the phone.

“Oh yeah. Bad ones?” Said Chris casually.

“Silencing.”

He laughed.

“You’ve lived out every parent’s dream there.”

“It’s not funny, the parents..the way they looked at me.” Basila said.

“Well they can use the rest of their _long_ and healthy life to bitch about you. Or they can stay there and get knocked over tomorrow or whatever and cuss you out in from beyond the grave. Come on Crossy, pull it together, this isn’t like you.”

“No. I know. I just don’t think I can do this.” Basila admitted into the phone tearfully.

“Mate. You don’t _think_ you can do this? You _are_ doing this. You’ve already sent two deliveries successfully, another lot going tonight. You are completely underestimating yourself as per usual.”

“Yes. Okay. That’s right.” Said Basila, feeling slightly better.

“Exactly. Look, I’ve been chatting it’s Gough. We agree a month is your limit there. You’ll be getting too hot, so you have to bug out.”

“Oh. Well, sure. Although.....I’d like to return after a bit.”

“Sure....sure. Or, we can do stuff from here, together. It’ll be like old times but less sand and better food.”

“I’d like that.” Said Basila and she smiled even though he couldn’t see.

“And maybe we can find your mystery man and he can come and clean out your cobwebs.”

“You’re disgusting.” She laughed, but a small thrill ran through her. Maybe she _could_ find him.

“I’m a realist. Come on, you’d better go, don’t you have an airport to drive to?”

“Fine. Idiot.” Basila said affectionately and hung up. She felt re-energised. Chris was right. She was fine, it was all perfectly fine.

————————————————

The Great Hall buzzed with low level conversation and Severus leant back in the middle chair at the High Table. The Welcoming Feast had gone relatively smoothly. Hagrid had only dropped one first year in the water whom the squid had helpfully deposited back into the boat with only mild hypothermia. The Sorting Hat had performed a bizarre song about “choosing the right path” which could have been about important life choices but equally as likely to be about successfully navigating the Forbidden Forrest. The staff had nodded wisely to each other except for the Carrows who looked blankly confused. Severus wouldn’t trust them with important life choices or the Forbidden Forrest at any rate. He’d opened the Feast with a short, pleasant introduction, welcoming the students back and wishing them well for the year. He’d ended by suggesting students would find an emphasis on discipline this year, and suggested that students would not want to test their Professors regarding this as punishments had been significant augmented for the new school year. Minerva had been unable to hide her open mouth surprise, obviously expecting a fire and brimstone diatribe from him. In fact, a good proportion of the Gryffindor table appeared to share the same affliction. The other Houses, seemingly sharing a sensible Hive mind attitude to the Feast regarding keeping out of trouble, applauded politely when he finished. It was quite surreal. Severus assumed they probably wouldn’t clap when one of the Carrows decided to pull them in for a little late night Cruciatus session but he thought he’d cross that bridge when they came to it. Still, it had not been what the staff expected, so that was good. It was preferable if they were predictable and he was not.

He hadn’t touched his meal, he was still wary, even after watching everyone dish out their meals from the same communal serving platters. Something brushed his knee and he jerked it irritatingly. He hadn’t heard the names of any of the students from the list being called out during the Sorting. Maybe....perhaps Basila had.....it was possible after all. She had seemed very confident and resourceful. He hadn’t seen the older muggleborn students either. But the Ministry’s directive had gone out which forbid them from attending Hogwarts. So...were they captured, dead, hiding? He couldn’t begin to guess. He began to structure a little daydream of Finch-Fletchley attending Eton, and being discovered by a famous Director while playing the lead in the school—what _was_ that on his bloody knee. Severus froze. He snuck a quick downward glance. Oh shit. It was Alecto’s hand. _Oh shit_. Her hand was on his knee. Severus immediately regretted ever having wished more (okay fine, some) women wanted to touch him, he now vehemently recanted that wish, right now please. The hand remained. Well, there was nothing else for it, he would have to slice his leg off, who needed two legs anyway, Moody had done just fine with one. He felt an icy hand grip his chest as the hand slowly moved off the knee up his thigh. Right. Well, he dealt with the Dark Lord, this should be easy. He inclined his head towards Alecto.

“Take it off or I’ll hex it off.” He hissed close to her ear. He heard her sniff in annoyance but the hand immediately retreated. His bollocks thanked him profusely. Alecto reminded him of the type of insect that would cheerfully munch off the head of any male stupid enough to let their genitals do whatever the hell it was Alecto liked doing. No thank you very much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, I’m going with the idea that Snape tried to start everything off a bit “hey everything is fine” with Hogwarts. I mean, the news was pretending Harry killed Dumbledore and lots of strange stuff. So I think a lot of people would still have no idea what actually was going on. Of course, once they attended Muggle Studies and got tortured to cat was probably out of the bag by then....


	15. The slippery slope

The stack of disciplinary requests in front of Severus was exclusively from the Carrows. Apparently all the students had been darling little angels in every single other class. On one hand, Severus didn’t care—but on the other, this was exactly the sort of anomaly that would cause the ears, if he had ears that is, of the Dark Lord to prick up. A patient explanation of the muggle concept of _flying under the radar_ would not have gone astray at one of the Order meetings. He supposed they were trying to protect the students from him. With that uplifting thought he continuing assigning the perpetrators to clean equipment for Horace and assist Argus in mucking out the owlery.... _No Spells Permitted_ Severus wrote on each form and underlined it twice, a little savagely. It was two weeks into term and the castle had never been so clean Severus thought smugly. He knew Argus had definitely enjoyed watching the students grudgingly pushing around his mop, endlessly griping about how much easier it would be with a spell. Everyone else hated Severus now, but Argus came to see him regularly with ever increasing lists of the foulest parts of the castle for his detention assignments. Bless him. Obviously that particular type of anger had been building for years...quite understandable really. Better out than in as they say, Severus reasoned to himself.

“Headmaster.” Said Dilys. “There is a student downstairs, but as they do not have the password the gargoyle is refusing to let them up.”

“It’s nearly curfew, what on earth do they want?” Severus said crossly. The best part of being Headmaster, besides the wall of talking busybodies, was the no longer dealing with students part.

“Apparently she won’t say.” Said Dilys disapprovingly.

Severus let out a long, heavy and bone weary sigh. He bet himself a thousand galleons it was one of his—sorry Horace’s—Slytherins. Horace was not the best Head of House he remembered from his own school days, but he certainly didn’t want to encourage any of them to seek him out for whatever reason. He’d already reached five past no fucks o’clock so had been sitting at the desk in shirtsleeves, but now he had to put all the armour back on just to shoo away a student. He was fastening the last button against his wrist as he walked down the staircase to find Tracey Davis waiting at the bottom.

“Miss Davis, I was not aware we had an appointment.” Severus said, looking down at her. She was possibly at her own no fucks o’clock as her uniform looked very dishevelled. The girl shuffled her feet.

“Er no, I don’t. Sorry Professor Snape, I just wanted to talk to someone.”

“Your Head of House, Professor Slughorn, is always available for these types of discussion Miss Davis.” Severus said, crossing his arms and leaning against the gargoyle. She looked at him, blinked and bit her lip.

“Um, yes Sir I know. I guess I’m not comfortable with him yet.” She explained.

“That will take time I agree, but everyone is in the same position as you. You must trust Professor Slughorn to look after your interests. How can he be in a position to assist you if you keep coming to me?” Severus told her.

“It’s....well they are private things. Could I....could I possibly have an appointment now?” The girl put both hands behind her back, which strained her shoulders slightly. Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Miss Davis I do not doubt you wish to discuss important and sensitive matters. But I am afraid I cannot make an exception. You must approach Professor Slughorn first. If the matter requires assistance from the Headmaster he will approach me formally.” She sighed.

“Yes Professor. It’s because, well, I’m having nightmares again.”

Aren’t we all, thought Severus.

“All the more reason to speak with your Head of House. I have briefed him in general on dealing with sleep disturbance, you will find him well equipped to assist you.” Severus said.

“Yes...Sir.” The girl said, looking a bit wobbly in the lower lip area. Severus softened slightly.

“It will be fine Miss Davis. You _will_ be able to conquer this.” He told her, gentling his voice a touch. They had been his responsibility for almost their whole school life, he did find it hard to dismiss her completely. She didn’t miss the change in tone and brightened considerably, but as she opened her mouth to undoubtedly launch into another line of reasoning of why he should spend the next hour feeding her tea and biscuits and providing metaphorical pats on the head Severus cut her off.

“Miss Davis, as you are aware Curfew is in three minutes, I suggest you make for your common room swiftly. The Professors Carrow are particularly rigorous in their adherence to it on their patrol.” Advised Severus. Her face fell into a pout.

“Yes Sir.”

“I’ll inform Professor Slughorn you need to speak with him.” Added Severus and Tracey looked momentarily panicked.

“Oh! Oh, that’s not...um...I mean, yes Sir. Thank you Sir.”

Severus watched her wander off down the hall, not even remotely approximating what he understood was the definition of swiftly. Severus shook his head, Phineas wasn’t the only one who had some gaps in his knowledge around teenage girls. Severus had been Head of house for over a decade and still found some of their behaviour baffling. He was making a mental note to speak to Horace at breakfast when the Summons seared his arm. Well, what a popular man he was tonight, he thought, and what wonders awaited him at the Manor? He decided against changing clothes, and instead strode to the apparition point in his school robes. It _was_ a school night after all.

Apparently it had been a party Summons, so Severus waited patiently in front of Voldemort for the arrival of Alecto and Amycus. He’d had the advantage of access to the Headmaster’s apparation point. It took them fifteen extra minutes, fifteen extra minutes of standing in front of an increasingly irritated Voldemort. Severus placated himself by deciding to assign them the next run of late night patrol shifts....in the dungeons....on alternate nights....with some type of incentive to Peeves to ambush them. By the time he had designed the entire revenge in his mind, Alecto and Amycus had arrived.

“How is my school fairing?” Asked Voldemort, his eyes trained on Severus.

“Quite well, my Lord, the staff are following direction and the students are learning the new curriculum.” Severus answered. Voldemort leant forward.

“Show me.” He hissed and ripped into Severus’ thoughts. Severus pushed forward the mostly silent staff meetings, the cowed children during meals and flashed a stream of unhappy students grinding their way through their menial tasks. He clenched his teeth as Voldemort abruptly withdrew.

“Explain yourself.” Voldemort said.

“My Lord, I have assigned these tasks for students charged with disciplinary issues. They are forced to undertake these jobs as muggles do, without spells, for the ultimate degradation.”

“That _is_ quite ingenious.” Agreed Voldemort, leaning back.

“Except, my Lord, it isn’t a punishment for muggle lovers.” Amycus burst out. Severus wondered if Voldemort would kill him for the interruption. There was a pause but no flash of green...Amycus’ lucky day.

“Is it not?” Asked Voldemort, almost sounding amused.

“No! They love their muggle _experiences_.” Amycus spat derisively.

“Your suggestion then would be—“

“Cruciatus.”

Of course it would be, thought Severus. Most bloody overused curse ever. He could hardly restrain his groan of frustration. Bloody Carrows, sodding great twats the both of them.

“Yes I agree this would be far more.... _motivating_.” Said Voldemort thoughtfully. “Do you not agree Severus?”

“Certainly.” Said Severus, who didn’t agree at all. “However I believe there could be one issue.”

Voldemort inclined his head indicating his interest and the Carrows stared at him in confusion.

“They are only children after all, my Lord. They are physically smaller with lower magical reserves. It is exceedingly likely that a Cruciatus cast by an adult will kill them. Perhaps Alecto and Amycus have forgotten our desire to enhance our cause through talent spotting among the student ranks, which may prove difficult if they are all dead.” Severus said.

“The older students can cast it then.” Argued Alecto. Severus had a brief vision of Tracey Davis getting fodder to add to her haul of nightmares after doling out rounds of Cruciatus on first years.

“In theory this appears to be a workable solution.” Said Severus, his mind sprinting to keep ahead of his mouth. “However another issue would arise. The older students have little to no control over their emotions and power, I fear that this combination would also be fatal for the student receiving the punishment.”

Voldemort appeared to ponder this.

“Severus, as always, you have a grasp of the intricacies of a problem. I have, however, the solution at hand.”

“As always my Lord”. Agreed Severus. He wasn’t lying, Voldemort always had a solution to problems, it just so happened the ‘always’ solution invariably involved a large amount of pain for someone else.

“Of all my followers—you Severus have both great power yet great restraint.” Voldemort said thoughtfully.

Over the past twelve months Severus had often felt as if he were trembling at the edge of a precipice, with a black and howlingly empty space yawning open beneath him. Sometimes though, he instead thought it was more like standing alone on the edge of the sea, the sand stretched out under him and the dripping maw of a tidal wave bearing down above him. Either way, there was a foreboding sense of helplessness combined with fear, loss and utter devastation of self. He clamped down his mental walls as hard as he could as the feeling rose up and threatened to engulf him from within.

“I am confident _you_ will able to administer curses successfully.” Voldemort continued. “So the child lives, but will deeply regret their transgression.”

“It would be my honour, my Lord.” Said Severus blankly. He was falling. The wave thundered down.

—————————————

“Basila, there’s someone weird at the door!” Aruvin called out. The children loved her security camera, and took turns sitting behind her computer watching the people walking past on the street. Basila walked over and stood behind him to see. There was a man and women, with a girl, no older than fourteen and a smaller child, a toddler. Their clothes were....something was off...something wasn’t quite right. Basila watched them examining the intercom with confusion. Her stomach dropped.

“Can I help you?” She asked, pressing the intercom button. She watched them start in surprise, then respond to the box on the wall. They didn’t press the button so she had no idea what they were saying. _Oh fuckadooley,_ thought Basila, _they don’t know what it is._ She felt panicked. How how they found her? She discovered she was terrified. She looked around the room, there were two sets of families not including Aruvin’s Aunt and Uncle. She took a deep breath and pressed the intercom again.

“Slip your wands under the door. I will open it.” She watched on the screen as the couple shared a glance, then pulled out two thin objects from their sleeves that they bent down and put under the door. _Oh dear_ , she’d guessed correctly. Basila took a deep breath, cast _Protego_ and went downstairs. She picked up the two wands from under the door which she tucked in her back pocket and, holding her own wand defensively, opened the door.

“What do you want?” She asked the couple, who stood on the doorstep in their slightly not-quite-right clothes.

“I’m sorry for the unexpected visit, but we need help.” Said the woman.

“Help to do what?” Asked Basila.

“To leave. That’s what you are doing isn’t it? Helping people get out?” The man said nervously. Basila’s mouth went dry.

“Who told you that?” Basila demanded, fear made her sound angry.

“Stephanie did.” The girl said. “She sent me an owl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you haven’t read Restoration the Tracey Davis visit to Snape will seem very strange. This will help you, just do a quick skim read:
> 
>  
> 
> [Restoration](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541973/chapters/31486005)
> 
>  
> 
> I’m all over the place for the next week so I hope to get a bit of fic time.... but if you don’t see me post that’s why!


	16. The Cruciatus Problem

“Is this a late night booty call?” Chris asked lazily as he answered the phone. “Because I’m not sure I’d still be in the mood after a twenty hour flight.” Basila balked slightly.

“Shit. What’s the time there?”

“Half past twelve at night. Lucky for you I was lying in bed reading. I’m wearing very sexy pyjamas though.”

“I’m sorry, I should have checked the time before I rang.”

“No hassle, what’s up?”

“Is Stephanie still in the hotel with her family?”

“Yeah. Three rooms down from me. Why?”

“Go wake them up. She sent a bloody owl to one of her school friends before she left, told them everything. That friend and her family just rocked up on my doorstep.” Basila snapped into the phone.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit indeed. I need to know how many owls she sent out.”

“I’m on it. Call you back.”

Basila sat at her desk, nervously drumming her fingers on her desk. The new family sat near the wall, looking around them in bewilderment. The mother was staring in fascination at Aruvin’s handheld gaming device and the father gawked at the television on the wall. Basila had shown them the bathroom, the tea and coffee facility set up in the corner and the small fridge crammed with food. She asked them who else they’d spoken with and they promised her no one. She said she’d make some calls then come back and chat. _Stephanie_...Basila shook her head, she should have Stupified her and sent her as cargo. She was right in her first instinct, teenagers were The Very Worst. After what felt like a thousand years, the phone rang. She snatched it up.

“Well she wasn’t happy I woke her up.” Chris said.

“Well boo hoo on that. Little snitch.” Basila grumbled.

“She swears she only sent one owl. I think she’s telling the truth, otherwise I would apply to use Veritaserum. Her parents were _not_ happy. I called Gough, he is absolutely ropeable. I think Stephanie has a bit of a tough day ahead of her.”

“Good. So she should.” Basila said angrily, then relented somewhat. “Ah, she’s just a kid, she would have no idea what trouble it would create. Look, I’ll talk to the new arrivals and call you at a better time. They look like purebloods, as in, like they’ve stepped onto another planet full of things they’ve never seen before. It’s freaking the others out a bit.”

“Crossy this turn of events stresses me. I don’t like this spilling into that world. I don’t like it all.”

“Me neither.” Agreed Basila.

“Mate, I’ll talk to Gough but I reckon you need to get a ticket for yourself when you get the ones for this family. Your time there is _done_.” Chris sounded very worried.

“I will. Don’t stress, I’ll be there before you know it. Talk to you later.” Basila said.

“Rightio. Night or morning or afternoon or whatever time it is there.” Chris hung up.

Basila walked back over to the new family and squatted down on her haunches in front of them.

“Do you all have passports?”

“Yes, in our bag.” Said the father.

“Right. Ever been on a plane?” The blank expressions answered her question.

“Alright, how about in a car?” They shook their heads. She sighed.

“Well, imagine the car is like a smaller, slower Hogwarts Express and the plane is bigger and flies.” Basila said, and they nodded.

“Why do you want to leave and why didn’t you just leave yourself?” Basila asked the parents suddenly.

“I work at the Ministry.” Said the mother. “My new job...it’s tracking muggleborn witches and wizards. So they can be brought in for questioning. Then I heard them talking, about squibs, about gathering them up as well, getting rid of them in the hope then no more will be born. Parents of squibs...” The mother shot a look at her youngest which answered Basila’s unasked question about why they would care about squibs.

“They are monitoring portkeys, apparation....everything.” Added the father.

“So the whole.....rounding up muggleborn didn’t bother you really.” Said Basila. “But when it was your own kid...” She felt her face grow hot from anger.

“We were scared. People that go against it, they just vanish—“ Explained the mother nervously.

“Until they turn up dead.” Finished the father.

“There are people who are willing to risk ‘going against it’.” Shrugged Basila, the image of her dark-haired man flashed into her mind. “And lucky for you there is. If there wasn’t, well you certainly wouldn’t be here talking to me would you?” The parents shared a guilty look.

“Our daughter, Christobel, got an owl from Stephanie complaining she was being sent away to Australia because her parents were muggles and she was in danger. She asked our daughter to ‘come rescue her’ and gave an address. We read the scroll and decided it was our chance to leave. We’d already pulled Christobel out of school due to...the change in leadership.” Finished the father.

“Ah, Headmaster Snape.” Said Basila.

“Yes. The Death Eaters control the school now, and the Ministry. I’m afraid we thought instead of picking up Stephanie we would perhaps we would instead throw ourselves on your mercy.”

“I see.” Said Basila. _Oh Stephanie you are going to get quite the verbal arse kicking_ , Basila thought grimly. That little shit. She turned to the mother.

“You. How are they tracking people? Anyone tracking you?”

“Through a variety of measures, some through wands, others through a network of spies in the community. I don’t think I’m—we’re—being tracked.”

“Oh you don’t _think_ you are? Well that sounds super safe to me. So you thought you’d just rock up to my place, and just _fingers crossed_ you aren’t being tracked?” Basila said, they both just looked at her. She pointed at the other children in the room.

“Would you like to tell them how confident you are you aren’t being tracked?” She crossed her arms. “Only two of the kids over there are magical, and they don’t even have wands yet or any idea really what magic is. Their parents are muggles, no wands there either. They have _no_ chance against what’s coming for them. No chance. So that’s why I’m helping them.”

“Yes, of course.” Stammered the father looking exceedingly worried. Basila clucked her tongue in irritation.

“Don’t look so flustered. I _am_ going to help you, I’m just annoyed. I didn’t plan for something like this happening and I don’t like that.” Basila said. She stood up and went back to her desk to make some calls.

—————————————

Severus had kept his Occlumency going for two days now, it gave him a tension headache but it meant he could work on the Cruciatus problem without wanting to curl up in a ball on the floor of his shower. He could possibly create a modified Memory Charm, which meant creating a torture memory to implant. Severus had a stockpile in his own mind, so accessing something to use as a template would not be a problem. The problem would be changing the charm enough each time and putting the right child in it. Difficult. Albus had tried talking to him a few times over the days but one of the problems with keeping his mind so locked down was he just stopped caring about things. He didn’t care when he found the trip hex placed at the top of the staircase from his office (obviously done after the morning staff meeting with the intention he would perhaps do everyone a solid favour and snap his neck on the marble floor at the bottom). He didn’t care when the students shrank from him when he passed them in the halls and he made one first year cry by looking at them (which normally would have completely made his day but now.....). He didn’t care when it became obvious no faculty member except the Carrows would eat food out of any communal bowl he had touched (so he made sure he touched all of Minerva’s favourite dishes first up). He just did not care. They flittered and buffeted his shields like moths—a brief moment of fury before dropping away harmlessly.

“Headmaster.” Said Phineas abruptly. He’d been silent since Severus had lost his temper at him and sent him away.

“Phineas.” Severus said coldly.

“I found out what the girl was crying about.”

_Granger_ , thought Severus. Falling apart while helping Potter. He felt his shields shudder, he was getting tired. He finally let them drop and rode out the instant percussion wave of suppressed emotion.

“What _was_ she crying about then?” He asked wearily.

“Hmmm yes well apparently they don’t have anything to eat, and they have some unspecified item that they need to destroy but have no means to do so.”

“I see.” Said Severus, although he didn’t really at all. What in the name of Merlin did they have that needed to be destroyed? Potter’s unjustified sense of self-righteousness? Weasley perhaps had went and got himself another Death Eater disguised as a small animal as a pet? An essay Granger got a ‘T’ for?

“The children are generally arguing when the bag is opened, the girl blames herself for their current predicament.”

Severus dropped his head into his hands. This was the last thing he wanted to hear. In fact, he preferred to hear as little as possible about Potter until Severus had the happy task of informing the boy that was destined to be a sacrificial lamb for Voldemort. A conversation he both yearned for (given it would signify the end was near) and feared (given it would signify the end was near).

“Dumbledore. Is the means to destroy this...thing...they have the Sword of Gryffindor perchance?” Severus asked the portrait above him.

“Indeed it is. Have you thought of a way to get the sword to Harry?” Albus queried.

“Yes.” Lied Severus, who hadn’t. “Everything is under control.”

“Excellent, Excellent. Phineas, please keep an ear out if they happen to mention anything that gives away their location.” Said Albus happily.

“Of course.” Said Phineas sincerely, which generally meant he wasn’t at all sincere about what he’d just agreed to.

Severus decide to move to his chambers to work on his two most pressing issues, the Cruciatus Problem and the Sword Dilemma. Trying to do anything with a dozen or more bored, dead, ex-Headmasters looking on was a lost cause. Once he was lying on his bed without them yammering at him or faking overly loud snores to indicate they were asleep and not eavesdropping on him, Severus found it easier to concentrate.

He’d been thinking about the Cruciatus Problem entirely wrong. He didn’t need the substitute anyone really into the memory besides himself, he just needed the memory of being tortured. He needed a lighter touch, so definitely not a Bellatrix or McNair or even a Lucius memory, they were all regularly pulling Outstanding grades for their ability to deal out extreme levels of pain. Perhaps Crabbe, he’d been forced to torture Severus once but his heart had definitely not been in it. Severus had helped Crabbe the younger deal with some pesky reoccurring bouts of homesickness over the years and this may have explained the lack of will in the curse from his father. It still hurt, it just hadn’t made him want to die. All Severus needed to do was replace Crabbe with himself in the memory, fudge a few other things and replicate it. The real question was whether there needed to be residual pain, which would require him doing some type of unpleasant curse to each child. Severus frowned, it probably wasn’t needed, he doubted any of them had been Cruccio’d before, so therefore wouldn’t have the first idea about the crippling aftershocks, radiating waves of cramping pain and uncontrollable shaking. If the Carrows made a comment Severus could say there was no such aftereffects from the less powerful cast, they’d have absolutely no idea...an experience that would not be wholly unfamiliar to them, Severus guessed.

In regards to the sword....well that was an entirely different matter. Phineas said they were in a tent, which Severus followed to the logical conclusion that the trio were camping somewhere. He knew that the Snatchers were combing through a lot of the unpopulated parts of Britain so he hoped one of them, no prizes for guessing which one, had been smart enough to learn and apply proper wards around their hiding place. The sword itself had to be taken during an act of valour or something approximating one, Severus pondered. Depending on where they were he could perhaps hide it in a ravine or right at the top of a tree or somewhere perilous enough that it would satisfy the pointless requirements of a needlessly judgemental inanimate magical weapon. He also had to lead Potter to the sword’s location without giving himself away. A thought sat up in the back of his mind. Potter had never seen his Patronus, in fact the only person who had seen it was dead. He hadn’t cast the charm since he’d performed it in front of Dumbledore. Severus sat up on his bed and let his mind pull forth the memories he relied on for the charm; his mother’s smile when the owl had first arrived with the Hogwarts letter, meeting Lily and discussing magic, standing together waiting for the first train to school, the first year of discovering this new world side by side. Before Potter, before the marauders, before the Mark, before everything. Despite the intervening years that had trodden the memories down to pale imitations of themselves they were still enough to call his Patronus forth. She nosed around his chamber and he, as always, put out his hand and she nuzzled it, or least appeared to, he felt nothing against his skin.

It hadn’t been until after school that Severus had discovered he and Lily’s Patronus charms shared the same corporal form. Patronus charms just weren’t something that just popped up in normal discussion at the best of times, and they hadn’t been taught the charm at school. When he’d learnt this, he’d wondered if it had meant that there was still something between them that hadn’t quite been snuffed out. But what was more likely is that when Lily had first learnt the charm, she’d drawn on similar memories to himself, finding out she was a witch and acceptance to Hogwarts. At some stage he’d probably even been a happy memory for her, but that had been a very long time ago. Severus had initially felt the doe had represented a link to Lily that time (and his own actions) had not managed to break, then was completely mortified to find out that James Potter cast a stag Patronus. Whether Potter had the stag from the start and it was one of those shitty life coincidences or whether his form had changed to match his wife’s, Severus couldn’t say. But his son cast the same form, as everyone had found out the disastrous year Lupin came to teach. So now Severus had a matching pair with one of his least favourite students. It was the luck of Merlin no one knew the appearance of his charm or he’d been up in front of the Minister quick smart trying to explain that he wasn’t actually in love with a student or vice versa. Thank you very much life, Severus thought. But Potter was, when it came down to it, a boy with a big gaping hole in his life that most people had filled by some type of loving parent or approximation of. Perhaps it was why Potter put so much stead in Dumbledore, Severus ruminated, and Black and Lupin. Always searching for the elusive father figure. The doe was now near his cupboard, grazing a few centimetres above his worn, antique rug. Severus sighed. Potter would follow her anywhere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I’m so sorry about the delay. I’ve found a bit of internet so am uploading. I’ve been writing this on and off since I uploaded the last chapter so I hope it is ok. I proof read in a rush and hope it isn’t too disjointed. :/
> 
> So...the books don’t appear to say why Lily has a doe patronus, or why James had a stag. I’ve done some diverging from the canon I guess here. Saying that they used similar memories for their patronus, hence it is the same, not that one changed to match the other. Hope that isn’t too much of a stretch for everyone.


	17. Sic semper evello mortem tyrannis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry about the delay in posting. Forgive? :)

“Bombs away eh?” Said Gough.

“Yep.” Said Basila. “Lakshmi is looking after Christobel’s family on the Heathrow Connect. I’m sure that will be an enlightening experience for her.” Basila smiled to herself remembering Aruvin’s mother patiently showing Christobel’s parents how to use the ticket machine.

“Great, and you?”

“I couldn’t get on that flight, it was full. But I’ve got one leaving in six hours, it transits Abu Dhabi.” Said Basila. “I’m parking my van at the airport and mailing the keys to a friend, they’ll come out and pick it up.”

“Good, good. Well I’ll be glad to meet you properly when you get here.” Said Gough. “Hang on, Chris wants to talk to you.” There was a muffled clunk as he passed the phone.

“Hey hey.”

“Hey.”

“So given we’re done here. I’ll be heading back to Canberra. Can’t skive off my actual job forever.” Chris said.

“Ah, will I see you before you leave?” Basila asked, a little disappointed. She thought they would catch up a bit when she arrived in Sydney.

“Well, I thought perhaps you could come and stay with me for a while, just until everything calms down. I’ve got a spare room and I’m told fairly tolerable domestic standards.” Chris offered, Basila grinned.

“Oh I’d love that! Is the Ministry in Canberra?”

“Yes, but nothing like yours, just in case you were getting excited.” Chris said, and she laughed.

“Sure. Alright I won’t get my hopes up. But seriously, that would really be great.”

“Great. Well. Send us a message before you get on the plane.” Said Chris. Basila heard a voice in the background. “Sorry, that was Gough. He says he’ll want to debrief you first before we head out. So we have to stick around Sydney for a few days. I’ll take you to all the disgustingly touristy places. You’ll hate it.”

“I look forward to hating it.” Basila said seriously. They exchanged farewells and she hung up. She smiled to herself as she finishing packing up her office. There wasn’t much to do, but she’d packed up the borrowed camping gear ready to return it all once she got back. She also made sure she cleaned out her small fridge and turned off all her electronics at the wall. She looked around her room, she would miss it while she was gone. It seemed like months since the tall, dark-haired man had walked into this very room and changed her life but it had only been a few weeks. She was tired, and thought perhaps this was the biggest reason behind her brief surge of melancholy. Still, some time in Australia with Chris would be rejuvenating, and she was looking forward to doing some sightseeing. She _really_ wanted to pat a wombat.

Basila was humming slightly as she finished locking up her office when the three black robed figures spun out of thin air into the middle of her room.

“Fuck!” Basila shouted and pulled out her wand which was jerked out of her hand almost immediately.

“A bit of out of practice are we _mudblood_?” Sneered the shorter of the three as he plucked her wand from the air, his voice muffled by the mask.

“Fuck off _shit eater_.” Said Basila, as she pulled out her glock and fired it. The shot throbbed in her ears and across the room as the short wizard screamed and the pistol exploded in her hand. She yowled in pain and desperately tried to visualise somewhere, anywhere, so she could apparate, she didn’t give a shit what she splinched. But instead of the familiar twist she felt her body suddenly stiffen and realised with horror they had Petrified her. She fell awkwardly, there was warmth on her cheek and she realised it was blood from the injured wizard. She hoped he was dead.

“You’re lucky _He_ wanted you alive.” One of the Wizards leant down and hissed in her ear. The other laughed nastily.

“She won’t feel so lucky soon.” The witch said, and then Basila felt the gut-twisting pull of the side-apparation.

—————————————————

When they spoke of the banality of evil, mused Severus, he wondered if they envisioned the manner in which faculty members refused to outrightly condemn the perceived new torture regime but demanded a meeting to discuss House points. Horace was uncharacteristically furious, he watched the Slytherin cup drain faster than it could be filled and was insisting that the other instructors were unfairly biased against his students. This of course started a tense discourse regarding the perceived ‘dark leanings’ of Slytherin students. _Idiots_.

Stereotyping had its usefulness in terms of reducing cognitive load, but the likes of Minerva and the rest would never truly get their respective heads around defeating the Dark Lord if they kept thinking in such a...well... _chunky_ manner. Slytherins were bad, Hufflepuffs good, Ravenclaws smart and Gryffindors bold. It was that simple in their eyes. But Gryffindors were also reckless, they pursued the glory of being seen to be the champions of the light with little regard for an actual moral compass and the damage their actions could do. The Ministry was full of elitist Ravenclaws, sneering their intellectual superiority over their fellow witches and wizards and the Death Eaters could never have so slowly seeped their tainted views across the Wizarding world if it weren’t for the passive, forgiving Hufflepuffs, so terrified of conflict they would prefer to roll over and let the cloud pass through them.

Severus sighed. Gryffindor, in his opinion, was full of egotistical braggarts who liked to frame their bullying of fellow students as harmless pranks. These pranks did more to swell the ranks of the Death Eaters then anything else. Although, under all his posturing, even Severus had to admit that his own motivations for joining Riddle were more layered and murkier than that. There was the lure of power and respect and even a slight tinge of satisfaction that Riddle saw something in him that Dumbledore and the others never did. Back in the heydays Riddle was handsome and charismatic in a way Severus secretly longed to be, but obviously wasn’t. There had also been quite a lot of decadence in the beginning as well, and his twenty year old self had enjoyed that immensely.

Severus was drawn back to the not-decadent-in-any-way current situation when Alecto shrieked and clutched her arm. She was closely followed by a pained groan from her brother. The eyes of the other staff members moved in unison from the two siblings writhing in pain to himself. His arm felt like it was ripping open but he let nothing show, Occlumency was also a dab hand at damping down pain, at least in the short term. In the long term it made it far worse when you dropped the walls, but that was Future Severus’ problem, there was no point Present Severus worrying about it now. He cocked an eyebrow, hoping it looked sardonic.

“I’m afraid Alecto and Amycus have another appointment. Therefore I will reschedule our current discussion.” Severus said evenly. The other staff eyed him and his arm suspiciously, but all filed out reasonably orderly with only a few muttered profanities against him as they passed. The Carrows stumbled over themselves, trying to get outside the gates as fast as possible so they could apparate. Severus deciding against the official robes, again choosing to appear in his school regalia, in case he needed the leverage.

When he arrived at the Manor Lucius was lounging—wearing glorious emerald robes that Severus was almost certain he recognised from the last fashion parade/deathmarch—across a daybed just inside the front doors. If it wasn’t for the oozing gash across his face, he would have looked the picture of self-indulgent luxury.

“Lucius.” Severus greeted him.

“Ah Severus. How are you?” Lucius lifted a small glass of what could only be incredibly potent and outrageously expensive liquor to his lips. His hands were trembling again and Severus watched him swallow the liquid in one gulp.

“Fine.”

“The weather is changeable tonight, I’d keep that in mind.” Said Lucius languidly in an offhand manner. Ah, thought Severus, something was going down in the main room and it wasn’t going well.

“Thank you.” Severus said. He leant forward, as if to embrace the man in front of him. Lucius recoiled slightly but then looked down to see the vial of Dittany Severus had pressed into his palm. He raised the empty glass almost mockingly, a parody of a toast. Severus shook his head slightly and moved down the hall to the main room.

—————————————————

Basila wasn’t completely sure where she was, but it was somewhere very rich and full of Death Eaters. She’d been slightly dismayed (but not surprised) to discover one of her captors was Albrecht Bramwell, one of her more tenacious tormentors from her school days. He had been the one to whisper in her ear before the apparition. He hadn’t grown much, Basila thought abstractly, she would be much taller than him now if she wasn’t lying on the ground paralysed from the neck down. A movement to her left drew her eyes to an elegant foot with long, polished nails. The foot stopped near her head.

“I was wondering,” Said a voice above her. “Whether you could inform me of the whereabouts of Sophie Wintergreen?”

 _Oh_......thought Basila..... _Christobel’s mother_.

“Who’s she?” Basila croaked out. The voice sighed disappointedly.

“No. That’s not what I want.” The foot began moving again. “Crucio.” The voice said with a sucking sound and Basila felt her body arch reflexively as intense waves of pain shot through her. She grit her teeth. Basila had gone through her Resistance to Interrogation course before deployment and had outperformed all the men. All of them. “A tough nut” was how the Special Forces instructor had admirably described her. She had just refused to give up anything. They hadn’t hurt her like this though. The waves stopped.

“That was a weak cast.” Said the voice. She was released from the immobilising spell and collapsed on the floor. Basila looked up at....whatever or whoever it was that stood in front of her. A very tall and thin to the point of emaciation figure stood in front of her. His unnaturally white face was made even more disturbing by the flattened flesh where a nose should be, dissected by two slits. The eyes were red and stared down balefully at her. It had to be Voldemort, thought Basila, and he was fuck ugly.

“Now. Yes. Our topic at hand. Sophie Wintergreen.” Said the figure.

“I _don’t_ know who she is.” Said Basila.

“You do. You do and you will tell me where she is.” Hissed Voldemort

“I don’t know who she is.” Basila repeated. Voldemort’s face contorted and she felt the curse hit her again.

—————————————————

Severus neared the room where the screaming was emanating from. He wasn’t exactly sure why he ended up being the type of person that walked towards screaming, but there it was. He saw Narcissa standing outside the door, looking intently at nothing.

“Narcissa.” Severus said. She turned to him.

“Severus. How is Draco?”

“He is doing fine, he is keeping to himself but staying out of trouble.” He told her and she looked relieved, her shoulders rounding down as she unwound slightly. He nodded and went to walk past her into the room.

“Do you know Sophie Wintergreen?” Narcissa asked suddenly.

“Not really. Ministry drone, daughter in third year, passable in Potions.” Severus said. “Why?”

“She destroyed a lot of muggle and squib records at the Ministry that were being used in the Tracking Program. Now she’s vanished, and so has her family.”

“And the destroyed records?” Asked Severus casually.

“Delores had duplicated copies in her office.” Narcissa said. The inner Severus swore however the outer Severus nodded, appearing pleased.

“Who’s in there?” Severus asked.

“They tracked her wand to someone. They aren’t being very cooperative.” Narcissa said unnecessarily,

“So it appears.” Said Severus. Ah bugger. He was probably Summoned for his Legilimency skills. Ugh. He rallied himself somewhat and walked into the room.

—————————————————

 _Death Eaters_. Basila thought scornfully to herself, no bloody stamina. After a few turns of cursing and hissing, Voldemort had handed over the reigns to someone called McNair. His curses had felt different to Voldemort’s, stronger but not as painful. She was fairly sure she’d peed on the carpet she was lying on, which she felt quite satisfied about. Basila had allowed her mind to roam free during the last session and she’d watched dispassionately from the ceiling as her body had jerked and flailed below her.

“Enough.” Ordered Voldemort and the flailing stopped. Basila blinked, okay, now it hurt. Her body was burning. “Bellatrix. See what you can find.”

“It would be my pleasure, my Lord.” Said a woman’s voice. Basila turned her head slightly and a very mad looking woman walked towards her wearing what Basila would classify as a both anticipatory and predatory smile. Basila’s stomach dropped. She was burning, her body was burning.

Basila’s mind _pulled_. She was back there...the plume of dirt and debris bloomed in front of her, Kovopovic‘s startled yell, she turned and saw the terrified faces of the family behind her and she cast her one and only wandless magic she’s ever been able to...  _Protego_...then everything was on fire....she smells burning....she is burning.....she can’t see her friend....

—————————————————

Severus was appreciative of his strong shields as he surveyed what was in front of him. Sprawled in a bloody and bruised mess on the carpet in front of Voldemort was Basila Crossley. Leaning over her was Bellatrix who as Severus was taking everything in, suddenly reared upright, clutching her head.

“Kovo!” She screamed. The Death Eaters around her swapped confused looks. Even Voldemort looked briefly taken aback. Bellatrix fell onto her side, clawing at her neck.

“I’m burning!” She screamed. Voldemort waved a hand and she was silenced, though her mouth continued to work as she howled voicelessly. The Death Eaters closest to her edged away slightly.

“Severus. I’m glad you are here.” Said Voldemort smoothly as if one of his most faithful and powerful followers wasn’t convulsing on the floor in front of him.

“My Lord.” Said Severus. “I am honoured to serve your needs,” His mind raced. Was there any way to save her? Perhaps he could offer to take her to Hogwarts to pry her mind open. Had she helped anyone on the list? If he was forced to plunder her mind he could find out. She was here because he’d gone to see her, Severus acknowledged to himself, he’d as good as killed her the day she’d walked in.

“Albrecht knows this mudblood from school. Do you know her?”

“No my Lord. I do not.” Said Severus.

“She killed Trenton with a muggle weapon.” Said Voldemort idly, red eyes on the crumpled form in front of them.

“He needed to be faster with his wand then my Lord.” Commented Severus blandly. _Oh Basila you fucking brilliant witch_. The ultimate indignity for a blood supremacist, killed by an _inferior_ weapon.

“I want you to find out what she has been doing and where Wintergreen is.” Voldemort ordered. Severus nodded and turned towards Basila, his throat constricting.

—————————————————

Oh....she knew that voice. Basila opened her eyes, her vision was blurry but she could vaguely see the person who had entered the room. Tall with dark hair. Oh. It was _him_. What was he doing here, had they captured him too? Basila was overcome with sadness. She wondered if he’d been able to complete his impossible task. She tried to concentrate on what Voldemort was saying. _Severus_....Voldemort called him Severus.

Suddenly Basila’s mind helpfully put one and one together and tapped its imaginary foot impatiently while she painstakingly realised she was looking at a two. _Severus Snape_. The Death Eater Headmaster. Gough’s comment about where the man had got the list from. Oh God. He’d got the list as he was the one in charge of the bloody school. Which meant....oh shit oh shit. Basila almost laughed. It was crazy. It was impossible. He had always been in more danger. She was endangering him by being here, by recognising him. If they knew.....he would be killed. She closed her eyes tightly, knowing this was where she showed who she was. She wasn’t afraid of bullies anymore. _Sic semper tyrannis Motherfuckers_.

—————————————————

As Severus moved Basila stirred. She was strong, his chest ached, most people couldn’t move after a few rounds of Cruciatus. He couldn’t think of how to save her, he needed time, more time. He watched as she propped herself up.

“Hey.” She slurred in the direction of Voldemort. Severus stopped.

“Severus.” Voldemort said warningly so Severus walked forward.

“Hey snakey! Come and do it yourself you fucking weak prick!” Basila shouted hoarsely. The entire room fell silent as every single Death Eater except Severus and the unconscious Bellatrix gaped at the captured woman. It was definitely a novel experience.

“You dare!?” Shouted Voldemort wildly, he half stood his face poisonous with malice.

“I’m sorry you’re scared of a little mudblood like me.” Taunted Basila. Severus was close to her now, she didn’t look at him. She wouldn’t recognise him, he looked so different. If he could just reach her maybe he could......

“McNair. End it.” Said Voldemort in a cold voice and the Death Eater stepped forward.

—————————————————

“McNair. End it.” Said Voldemort. The man, _Severus_ , was close to her now. She could kill him or save him. She would save him. She hoped he would finish his task. She wished she could tell him good luck. She turned to the chair and the ugliest man she’d ever seen.

“Fuck you.” She said, and flipped two forks at Voldemort. She laughed maniacally at his expression. She’d remember it forever, he was completely shocked, his mouth dropping open comically.

The Death Eater raised his wand. There was a flash of gre—


	18. Restoration revisited

**Six years later**

Jeremy Gough tapped the desk impatiently as he waiting for the document to print from his computer. In the interview room down the hall sat a man he’d been wanting to speak to for quite a few years, but since Gough thought the man in question was dead, he hadn’t really considered it a possibility. When the charm had triggered noting the breach of a visa condition, Gough could not believe it when he saw who it was. Neither could some of his aurors and there had been a slight verbal altercation about who would get to detain the man.

Everyone who was anyone in Wizarding Australia had followed the reporting on the arrest and trial of the British Minister of Magic, as well as the surprise apparent resurrection of Severus Snape. It was generally agreed Britain was more exciting than Australia, where the last scandal had been the county’s foremost Potions Master detained for selling male “potency” potions to the muggle Minister of Defence on the side. He’d made a stack of money before the Minister had discovered exactly what impact magical consumables had on muggle physiology. They weren’t good. No one knew exactly what had happened but it was very obvious the Minister no longer wore pants, only _ie faitagas_. Rumours were he could no longer bear...constricting cloth around that region. The varied hypotheses about what had happened to his downstairs department were enough to make any man’s eyes water. Still, a politician getting caught with his pants down (or no longer on at all) was standard stuff, certainly not the whole ‘secretly plotting genocide and kidnapping and torturing war hero’ adventures that happened in the mother country.

Gough drummed his fingers as he waited. His mind was on Basila, who, despite having been missing for six years, often consumed his thoughts. He and Chris had sat with their phones for hours waiting for Basila to call to say she was at the airport but she never did. The next day they collected the last two families from the airport. They knew nothing more than she’d dropped them at the train station and waved cheerily as they drove off.

The boy...Gough couldn’t remember his name...had been upset that Basila hasn’t been in touch. The pureblood couple had seemed inordinately distressed as well, but couldn’t (or wouldn’t, Gough privately speculated) provide any insight into her disappearance. Gough and Chris surmised that the other side must have found the girl’s letter and picked Basila up that way. They never wanted a teenager to find out what happened and blame herself so the families were told Basila stayed in Britain and had gone into hiding. All that was left to do had been to begin the process of finalising Operation Mongoose—wrapping everything up, writing the final assessment and noting the potential to dovetail into a future Operation to locate Basila Crossley. He hoped she was able to be located alive, but he knew how unlikely that was.

“Boss.” He looked up to the grinning face of one of his aurors peering around the door jamb.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got Hermione Granger on the phone. She rang through the switch looking to speak to someone about the arrest of her _partner_ , Mister Snape.”

“I see, well you can put her through to me.”

“I will. This is exciting right? I hope Harry Potter is with her, so I can get his autograph.” The auror pouted his lips.

“Out.” Gough ordered, shooing him with a gesture. The auror laughed and retreated down the hall. This is exactly why people didn’t like aurors, Gough thought. They were tagged as gossipy busybodies and it wasn’t really that far from the truth in some cases. He picked up the receiver and heard the familiar _click_ as the transferred call came through.

“This is Commander Gough.” He said. Gough wasn’t overly fond of titles but they did tend to make people polite and nervous. A good combination in Gough’s opinion.

“Thank you for taking my call Commander, my name is Hermione Granger and I’m calling in reference to the recent arrest of my partner Severus.” Ah, thought Gough, she sounded polite but not remotely nervous. There was a definitely edge of anger under the niceties.

“Yes Ms Granger. How may I assist?” He said languidly.

“I’d like to request clearance to side-apparate two muggles to your office to provide statements in support of Severus.”

“I see. And how would this assist him?”

“I believe that his actions would fall under the annexure to your Criminal Code regarding magics performed to reverse collateral muggle injuries from an otherwise lawful wartime spell.”

Gough sat back in his chair. It wasn’t often people surprised him. But Ms Granger had, she’d obviously done her research on the relevant legislation.

“Go on.” He said, interested despite himself.

“Are you aware of the conflicts we have endured, um, across Britain?” Ms Granger asked.

“I am well versed in Tom Riddle and his various incarnations as well as the more recent issues with Minister Carding, if that is what you are asking.” Gough replied smoothly.

“The muggles are my parents. I altered their memories during the last war and sent them to Australia to protect them from attack. Severus and I came to Australia to reverse what I had done, to restore their memories. They are prepared to provide a formal statement in support of this, as will I.”

“Legillimancy is a restricted spell as I’m sure you know, however it is possible that extenuating circumstances may convince us to downgrade the charges against Mister Snape.” Gough said. “You can bring your parents here by side-apparation, I will lodge the clearance now for you.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.” Said Ms Granger gratefully, abruptly dropping her stern tone and sounding about a decade younger.

“The sooner you bring them, the sooner we can sort this out.” Hinted Gough.

“Yes, if course. I’ll bring them right away. Thank you.” Said Ms Granger, then hung up.

Right away meant right away, thought Gough when a young woman arrived with an older couple no more than ten minutes later. Gough sent them away to provide their statements and turned his attention to Ms Granger. She looked unsettled, but he wasn’t quite sure if it stemmed from anxiety or annoyance or a combination of the two.

“Why don’t you have a cup of tea or a cold drink before your interview. You apparated two people quite a distance.” Gough offered, indicating the small kitchenette to their left.

“Yes, thank you.” Said Ms Granger, and walked over. He followed her and made his own tea while she poured a cold drink and picked up a fairly boring standard office biscuit.

“He doesn’t hate muggles you know.” She said firmly. Gough thought of Basila....of Mongoose.

“No. I don’t suppose he does.” He agreed.

After seeing Ms Granger refuelled with refreshments and settled in with an auror in another room Gough gathered his files and went to see Mister Snape.

The man sitting placidly at the table looked different from the images he’d seen in the smuggled newspapers from years ago and the current ones sent across by embassy staff. He looked less....angry...unhappy....Gough couldn’t decide. He wasn’t going to win any Wizarding beauty contests by any stretch of the imagination, Gough evaluated, but he also wasn’t likely to be hexed on sight by the general populace. Gough sat down in the chair across from Snape.

“Hello Mister Snape, my name is Jeremy Gough, I’m the commander for this region.” He tapped the pen on the desk nervously and saw the man’s eyes flick down.

“Yes, no quills here I’m afraid, the ink dries too quickly. Makes the whole exercise pointless.” Gough said. He inwardly berated himself for sounding so inane.

“Understandable.” Shrugged Snape. He was disturbingly still, thought Gough, who was overcome with the urge to shake Snape up. He wanted to get some reaction, however small, out of the staid man sitting at the desk across from him.

“It’s not often we arrest celebrities here.” He said cattily. There was no change in the Snape, Gough may well have just made a pleasant comment on the weather for all Snape cared. Gough decided against further attempts to rile him for the moment, and looked down at his file.

“So.....back to life after some time. Lots of excitement over the pond about it.” He began.

“Yes.” Said Snape non-commitedly.

“But I’m far more interested in your activities here.” Gough continued casually.

“Yes.” Snape repeated, sounding bored.

“You already knew Legilimency was a restricted spell in Australia, my officers tell me you were expecting their arrival, yet you did it anyway.”

“Yes.”

“On a muggle couple. I don’t need to tell you casting spells on muggles is illegal here.”

There was a pause from Snape before he spoke. “No.” Gough could have swore he saw something flicker in Snape’s eyes.

Gough decided now was the time to show his hand.

“I’d like to talk more about muggles with you. Are you familiar with Mongoose?” He asked, watching Snape carefully. There was no reaction.

“Not especially.”

Gough pursed his lips, now that was a different response to the flat one word affirmative or negative comments Snape had been snapping back at him so far. He knew it. Snape was the instigator, he decided to go for the throat.

“Not especially eh. Well I was relocation logistics for it. Before it went balls up.”

Snape frowned. Gough thought he looked momentarily confused.

“Relocation logistics?” Snape asked. Gough was briefly taken aback.

“Yes, once they got here, finding them places to go, jobs for the parents, immigration clearance. You know, logistics.” Gough explained as Snape sat silently in front of him.

“How many did you relocate?” Snape finally asked.

“Nineteen seperate families before they cut the pipe at the other end.” He replied and watched carefully as this information was taken in by Snape. Gough knew Basila hadn’t met with Snape again, but he was surprised that he appeared to have no insight into what she had done. He felt suddenly sad. He remembered Chris teasing Basila about having a crush on...well...someone who turned out to be the man in front of him. Did he not even know what she’d done? What lengths she went to based only a single meeting? Spy stuff was for chumps, Gough decided angrily, nobody knowing what people went through alone, it just wasn’t on.

“I see.” Snape suddenly said quietly.

“What happened to her?” Gough asked a little desperately. He wanted to know. He didn’t want to know.

“Tortured, killing curse.” Said Snape flatly. Gough closed his eyes. _Basila_. They’d guessed she’d been killed, but she was so resourceful....Chris had argued she could have easily dropped off the grid for years without being found. They’d always held on to a tiny, pointless shard of hope she was still alive. He opened them again and locked his gaze with Snape’s.

“Ah. She told us only two people knew about Mongoose where she was. Herself and the instigator. They’d provided the list and the funds.” He said.

Snape shrugged. Gough was beginning to get annoyed by his lack of response. Didn’t he know what she’d risked? What she’d done? Didn’t he care?

“See, we figured the list had to have come from someone with access to the school records...very close access, Headmaster access. When it all came out about you after you were, well, dead, we put it together and guessed you were the one behind it.” He said, trying to hide his anger under the same flat tone Snape was using.

“Did you tell anyone back in Britain?” Snape asked abruptly.

“Merlin no. Your Ministry still reeked of anti-muggle bias. Everyone knew that. So we kept it in-house.” Gough replied.

“Sensible.”

“They’re doing well you know. All the kids.” Gough blurted out. He wanted him to know Basila had done what he’d asked, that she’d kept them safe. Snape’s face softened. The change was startling to observe.

“That.....is good to hear.” Snape said hesitantly. Gough thought he looked briefly lost and vulnerable, but the moment passed.

—————————————————

Severus and Hermione sat in the larger waiting area while her parents were with Commander Gough signing their confidentiality forms.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, looking at Severus with concern. He seemed paler than normal, and even more reticent, if that were possible. She took his hand but he didn’t seem to notice as his fingers lay passively idle in hers despite her giving a supportive squeeze.

“Yes.” He said but he wasn’t really.

He was thinking about Basila Crossley and the way she’d brazenly taunted Voldemort in the Manor. A lot of wizards and witches—powerful ones—had met their fate on that floor but none had made such an impact as her. Voldemort had stewed for days on Basila, taking out his injured pride on a variety of unlucky targets. Lucius had been particularly put out when his Malfoy crest had been obliterated. Narcissa commented to Severus later that she’d always hated the gaudy gold leaf crest, so had been largely sanguine when Voldemort had blasted it into flecks of gold confetti. That was Narcissa, there was always a silver lining. Even to psychopathic dictators.

Severus had returned to Hogwarts after Basila was killed and drank two bottles of wine and passed out. He couldn’t bear it. Everything he touched turned to shit. He seemed to have a talent for making muggleborn witches dead. First Lily, then Basila. He couldn’t help Potter and the other two. How could he? He was poison, killing anything he came into contact with. He’d fallen into the darkest place he’d been since the Astronomy Tower. Then the bloody sword debacle had happened. Severus sighed to himself, now _that_ had been the very definition of a shitfight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Celerythesis for bouncing ideas with me and giving great advice. <3


	19. The sword of Gryffindor

**October 1997**

Severus lay on his bed reading. He was currently completely into dystopian literature, living, as he was, in dystopian times. It perversely made him feel better, reading about how horrible it could be or was, or whatever. All the main characters were at times lost like him, but mostly they managed to solve everything by the end. Severus generally discarded the books halfway through, he was pessimistic about his chances to solve everything by his own end, so he preferred to leave the character when they were still in the midst of totalitarian horror. Perhaps if he made it through he’d eventually finish them. And if he didn’t, then he and the characters ended in similar circumstances. As he turned another page in the latest tome, there was a strange pulse to his wards and he sat upright. A thousand galleons it was fucking Amycus again, sniffing around for Firewhiskey.

He’d put a ban on drinking for all faculty members (excluding himself of course) when he’d caught each of the Carrows blasted out of their minds while on patrol on two separate occasions. They were belligerent and unpredictable at the best of times, he couldn’t think of anything worse than one of them meeting a recalcitrant student after a bottle of stomach churner. Argus would lose his mind if he had to clean it up. Severus swung his legs off the bed and into his boots, fully dressed as always—he removed his robes only to bathe now. There was an undercurrent of steady mutinous activity from staff and some older students and he couldn’t risk appearing as anything but their black garbed and ever-vigilant warden no matter what time of the day or night it was.

He moved, Disillusioned, into the outer room to see Neville Longbottom—of all people—giving a leg up to Ginevra Weasley who was attempting to pull the fake sword of Gryffindor out of its case. Luna Lovegood was with them, which explained how the others had got through his outer wards. The other two would never have the brains to unpick them. He was slightly surprised at Miss Lovegood’s appearance, but her father was openly antagonising Voldemort with his newspaper, so perhaps subversion was hereditary.

“Higher Neville! Quick, before he wakes up.” Hissed Miss Weasley as she yanked against the restraints holding the ornate weapon.

“Hurry!” Mister Longbottom hissed back, squinting with effort as he hoisted the girl up further so she could get more leverage. Severus rolled his eyes. What on earth did they think they were going to do with the sword once they had it? Chop his head off? Slay a dragon? Pointless, pointless Gryffindors. Ah, and he mustn’t forget the bonus Ravenclaw Severus thought as he glanced over at the serene Miss Lovegood—who appeared to be fascinated by his foe-glass.

“Absolutely pathetic as usual Mister Longbottom.” Said Severus coldly, cancelling the Disillusionment charm. Miss Weasley fell awkwardly as Mister Longbottom forgot he was acting as a stepladder, let out a bellow of rage and rushed towards him. Severus immobilised them all nonverbally and wandlessly and smoothly Summoned the sword into his grasp. He made a show of examining the sword minutely then discarding it to the floor with a clatter and a sneer of disgust. Miss Weasley’s eyes bulged in anger but Miss Lovegood regarded him coolly. She was made of stronger stuff than her classmates, Severus observed, although she hid it well beneath her eccentric exterior.

“I’d ask you what you hoped to gain from this idiotic endeavour,” Severus began mockingly, “but that would mean I’d made the mistake of thinking you put any thought whatsoever into this particular brand of ridiculousness.” He walked over to Longbottom. The boy had grown quite a lot over the past term but Severus put his own height to good use by very purposely emphasising he had to bend down to look Longbottom in the face.

“Perhaps the absence of Potter has left a vacancy for moronic acts of petty childishness.” Severus continued in the same tone. “And you felt it was perhaps a role that aligned with your.... _ambitions_?”

Oh there was real anger in those eyes now, Severus thought. He’d done his job. Now what to do with them, _that_ was the real conundrum. The Cruciatus memory was wearing thin now, especially since Amycus had gone against him and began forcing the older students to cast the curse on fellow students in detention. Severus wanted him thrown out of the school for the insubordination but Amycus had caught the Dark Lord on a good day when Severus was not there, and had garnered support for the practice.

It had been exhausting trying to distract the Carrows since that point with regular and sudden curriculum changes that required him to observe how they were being delivered across the various classrooms. His presence did enough to cower most of the students into behaving, which led to less detentions and less Cruciatus practice. His...sorry, _Slughorn’s_ Slytherins had put their own plans into action. Phineas also had a smaller portrait in that particular common room and had informed him that the Slytherin prefects Zabini and Bulstrode had lain down the law at the start of term. No misbehaviour in classrooms was to be tolerated, no student was to be out after curfew and no student was ever to be left alone.

They implemented a complex rotating shift under which students met each other before and after meals and classes so that there were always three Slytherin students together at all times. Apparently Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson had led a thorough refresher course in shield charms for the younger students. They intended to survive the year by avoiding attention and relying only on themselves. He’d been very proud of them.

So....what to do with the three students currently frozen in front of him? It was a quandary. Severus wanted all the appearances of a punishment, but something that wouldn’t necessarily put them off completely. Something they could boast to each other was a piece of piss and they’d got the better of _The Greasy Git_ , who obviously had _no idea_. The rebellious vibe amongst the student and staff was doing well to maintain some morale during the current nightmarish school term and keeping them focused on him as opposed to other, more dangerous targets. Targets that would have removed their skins as a starter just for the fun of it if they found students breaking into a room as opposed to immobilising them and merely hurting their adolescent feelings with low level mocking. Ah, yes, he had just the ticket.

It gave Severus some satisfaction when he delivered their detention instructions the next day. He ordered the three young offenders to report to Hagrid to assist him in his various strange and most probably slightly illegal Hagrid chores he undertook in the Forbidden Forest. _Yes_ , Severus smirked internally has he saw the eyes of the three miscreants light up, unsuccessfully trying to hide smug grins at the detention, _you’ve certainly got me fooled_. He knew the Carrows would be furious with missing out on the chance to take out some of their impotent rage on the students, but too bad for them. He was seriously worried they would kill someone and that building concern chipped away at his already disastrously inadequate four hours of sleep a night.

Since Basila’s death his nightmares had gotten worse and as completely horrid as his waking life was, it was preferable to what his mind conjured up as he slept. He had watched her die many times and he was as impotent in his dreams as he had been in real life. He should have left her to her sunshine tracksuit and self defence. She would still be alive, he chastised himself glumly, helping women in bars and having beers with overly muscled men.

Of course the Carrows whined to Voldemort about the detention, which was why Severus was Summoned very late the following night to the Manor. It was largely empty that night, and Severus had walked into the dining room and observed the most awkward dining companions since he had been seated between Hagrid and Madam Maxine at the Yule ball. He thought he’d been very much in danger in being the unwilling filling in a giant love sandwich, so he’d escaped the proximity of the hormones as soon as he’d wolfed down the first course. First time ever he’d been happy to skive off to talk the Dark Mark with a rapidly hyperventilating Karkaroff. At the current table of awkwardness Narcissa and Lucius sat opposite Bellatrix and Rodolphus, with Voldemort at the head. Everyone looked up at him when he entered, Narcissa with what looked like relief.

“My Lord, you requested my presence?” Severus said. He was now worried about why he was there. He very much hoped it wasn’t an sex thing, he had no desire to find out what Bellatrix and Rodolphus found erotic and was fairly certain he hadn’t drunk enough of anything to want anyone to see him naked.

“Yes. Amycus and Alecto had some unsettling news for me. They claim you have been refusing to punish students that flaunt their opposition to you, and by proxy... _me_.” Severus, who had previously thought it was impossible to loathe the Carrows more than he already did, was delighted to find he was wrong.

“That is not true my Lord.” Said Severus smoothly. _He was definitely going to put some type of boils potion in their meal. Definitely._

“Is it not? Did you not catch the Longbottom and Weasley blood traitors breaking into your office?”

_Boils potion mixed with that little nasty one he developed that made someone get terrible haemorrhoids._

“My Lord. I did. I gave them a punishment that was a favourite of Dumbledore’s. I wanted them to be forced to think of him while undertaking degrading work. The most effective torture can be more than simply inflicting physical pain.” Said Severus. Voldemort laughed.

“Yes Severus. You are right. How often your compatriots doubt you.” He cocked his head and narrowed his red eyes. “What did they want in your office?”

“The sword of Gryffindor my Lord.” Replied Severus. “I—“ he was interrupted as Voldemort hissed and thrust his oddly flat face forward toward him.

“You must take the sword out. Immediately. Return to the school and retrieve it.” He turned to his right. “Rodolphus, Bellatrix, when Severus returns I want you to secure the sword in your vault at Gringotts.” They nodded over-enthusiastically.

As directed, Severus returned to Hogwarts and reached up to secure the sword. The Albus portrait figure nodded, satisfied.

“As expected my boy, well done. The original, if you remember—“

“Potter. Yes. I remember. And when exactly will Potter suddenly deduce he requires the sword?” Severus snapped irritably.

“I imagine quite soon.” The portrait said serenely. Severus caught the portrait of Phineas rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Phineas, if possible, in your spare time, keep an ear out for news from the tent?” Severus asked and Phineas nodded in acquiescence, with only the slightest hint of irritation. Albus hummed melodiously to himself. Severus and Dilys shared a look. Severus was beginning to question whether Dumbledore had spent enough time with his portrait before he was...well before he died.

The portrait seemed to have all the eccentricities of the powerful wizard but was missing some of the common sense that occasionally poked through. Perhaps Dumbledore had spoken to it mostly near the end, after he’d touched the cursed ring. Severus had thought Dumbledore had been different after that. Less coherent. Severus decided that if he dwelt more on the possibility that he was placing his life—and Potter’s— (not to mention the fate of Wizarding Britain) in the hands of a slightly dementing portrait he may well go mad himself. Besides, he had to return to the Manor with the copy of the sword.

A few days later Severus returned to his office after a long and difficult day. Although as every day was long and difficult now, he really needed to reset his baseline and classify these types of days as normal and then go from there. Phineas was agitated, which could mean he had something important to say, or the other portraits were picking on him, or he’d seen cleavage in the common room again and had the vapours.

“Get on with it then Phineas.” Severus sighed. He wanted to lie down and undertake his version of trying to get to sleep, which was to stare at the ceiling and think about terrible things for a few hours.

“The mudblo—er, the girl...she is calling me to my frame.” Phineas said, avoiding the slur by the painted skin of his painted teeth.

“Ah.” Said Severus, glancing up. Albus was not in his frame, nor were many of the portraits. They were probably holed up together in one of the landscapes somewhere having a portrait party. They likely didn’t invite Phineas as he was the sole Slytherin, or because he was a horrible old bigot, or some combination of both.

“Headmaster, do you wish me to respond?” Phineas asked.

“Yes.” Said Severus. “Remember, you must not allude in any way to my allegiance, however you may use your imagination in drawing their interest to the sword and how it may assist them.”

“I shall be the very epitome of discretion.” Smirked Phineas, in an uncanny reflection of Severus himself.

“Well please keep your _epitome-ness_ to a minimum.” Severus scolded slightly. “Don’t be too heavy handed.” Phineas looked profoundly insulted.

“Headmaster, they are Gryffindor teenagers, I anticipate they will struggle to decode even the most blatant of clues.”

“Do not underestimate the girl.” Ordered Severus. Phineas clucked his tongue irritably, but eventually nodded and slunk out of his frame.

Severus sat down heavily in his chair, there was nothing to do but wait until Phineas returned. Thankfully, or not, Phineas returned soon after, blustering slightly that he had been blindfolded by the girl. Severus held back a surprised snort of laughter with some difficulty. _Bless you Granger,_ he would have enjoyed seeing that.

“The Potter boy asked for Dumbledore.” Said Phineas.

“Of course they did, they were hardly going to tell you to pass on their regards to me.” Severus replied bitterly.

“They also asked about the sword.” Reported Phineas. Severus raised his eyebrows in interest. “I mentioned Dumbledore had used it to break open a ring.”

“I see.” Said Severus. _Broke the ring, what the hell was Phineas talking about?_

“They asked if you’d seen that and I said you had not.” Phineas finished, sending a crafty glance at Albus’ still empty frame.

“Thank you Phineas.” Said Severus, his mind racing. That must have been the cursed ring Dumbledore had foolishly put on which had started Severus on the road to the Astronomy Tower. The sword, last used to kill the basilisk.....impregnated with its venom. Severus felt the answer was within reach, but he was running on coffee and potions these days which, while keeping him largely upright and mobile, wasn’t great for cognitive functioning. He seemed to remember something relevant to basilisk venom in one of his very old, very dark, very illegal books. He kept it strongly warded in his chamber for protection and he went to fetch it. It took Severus several minutes to find what he was looking for.

 _Horcruxes_.

Fuckity fuck fuck, thought Severus. Potter, Weasley, Granger, the Order....himself. They were screwed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about delay! Hope everyone is well.


	20. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, thank you SO MUCH for Corylea...the most amazing and generous person, who put her time aside to proof read this chapter. Let’s just say....she found a lot! :))
> 
> I bet there are grammatical errors in this note. O_O

After making the connection to Horcruxes, Severus felt lost. He now realised the futility of everything if Voldemort had secreted pieces of his soul in various artefacts. Obviously the trio had managed to obtain one, which explained why they had taken the enormous risk of infiltrating the Ministry. Pondering on what Albus _had_ had the courtesy of being told, Severus felt a gnawing feeling of concern about Potter. Dumbledore had said the boy would need to die...was he a horcrux too? He quivered under a brief hot flush of mortification mixed with rage when he pictured the awkward and quickly aborted Occlumency lessons. If what Severus feared was true, then Potter had had absolutely no chance of stopping the link between his mind and Voldemort’s. If Severus had known, he wouldn’t have agreed to the lessons, or been so horrid during them. Although maybe he would have. He pressed his palms against his eyes. Potter looked so much like his father Severus found it difficult to distinguish between his feelings about the student in his class and the arrogant tormentor from his past. Potter also reminded him of Lily, too, which he both hated and craved. He was a mess. He needed a holiday, preferably one a long way from England where the biggest decision of the day was between a daiquiri and a margarita.

Phineas was often called at night to the frame kept in Granger’s bag. He wasn’t really gathering any useful information and had yet to provide a location for them, but Severus insisted he keep returning when requested. He fed little updates about the school via Phineas. Severus thought that Potter’s home life, like his own, had been generally unpleasant. Until the final years of school when it became unbearable, Severus had looked towards Hogwarts as his real home. He strongly suspected Potter felt the same and decided a bit of psychological warfare would be useful.

After the Gryffindor sword debacle, the Carrows were far more overt in their bloodlust, obviously bolstered by their success at gaining the ear of the Dark Lord. In retaliation, Snape had run his version of a False Flag. He reinstated some of Umbridge’s old, hated decrees regarding prohibiting the gathering of students and banning unofficial student societies. He’d told the staff during a particularly sour meeting this was because he was aware of rumours concerning students forming groups intent on undermining him as Headmaster. He made it clear he would not tolerate it, and was rewarded with a steely glint in the eyes of McGonagall, Sinestra, Sprout and Flitwick.

Severus knew there had been a loose collective of staff and students who had been undertaking small acts of rebellion, but nothing serious. But he’d now given them the push they needed. He would bet every galleon left in his vault (not that great an amount actually since he had given most of the hidden stash to Basila) that as soon as the meeting was over those three walked out and organised willing students into something more cohesive. His decree would mean they would pay careful attention to staying covert, thus reducing the chance of altercations with the Carrows.

He knew that Potter would immediately think of three things upon hearing that little tidbit from Phineas. One, that Severus continued to be the tyrannical, officious bully Potter had always thought, but the resurrected decrees strongly implied that Severus was worried about the students banding together. It returned Potters focus to him, a flesh and blood man with an obvious Achilles heel as opposed to the boy wasting his time fretting about Voldemort, who gave the impression of being an indestructible force of evil. Two, it reminded Potter he was not alone in his endeavour, and that there was a building full of allies should he need them. Three, it would bring into stark relief the fact that Potter’s enemy (Severus guessed that’s how he was seen) was in Potter’s rightful home...Hogwarts. Potter would be re-energised to take back what was his, and oust (here Severus had no doubt oust was really going to mean kill) the interloper.

They were speeding towards Christmas, which obviously was shaping up to be an incredibly jolly time. Severus had approved decorations and hoped very much that no students were staying over the break. He was planning on lodging at Hogwarts over the holiday, ostensibly to keep an eye on everything but in reality to avoid both Spinners End and the Ghost of Christmases Past. He was also trying to keep a very low profile so he wouldn’t get invited to the Manor. Besides the bizarre experience of watching Death Eaters celebrating the same holiday as the muggles they abhorred, Voldemort generally ramped up the pettiness around this time, ‘tis the season after all, thought Severus. What he really wanted was everyone to piss off so he could just let his guard down for one bloody day. Just one day where there wouldn’t be jinx traps in the corridors and pretty brutal graffiti in the boys bathrooms about the type of things Severus apparently did in his private chambers (which were all both inventive and completely depraved). He didn’t think it was too much to ask for.

————————————

Christmas Eve was perfect. The castle was virtually empty with no children and no staff. Only the ghosts, and they were all floating around moaning about how bored they were when no one was around. Not Severus. He had finally removed his constricting coat and robes, and pulled out some of his potion gear to make a cauldron of mulled wine. While it was simmering he dug around in the bottom of his food drawer and with a satisfied grin pulled out some mince pies and....right at the bottom...yes....some Stilton.

He set himself up in front of his fireplace with his nibbles, a goblet of fragrant wine and his newest acquisition, _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ by Rita Skeeter. He rated Rita somewhere on the evolutionary ladder under cockroaches but above protozoa; however, she might have dug up something interesting on the old man. He sipped the wine, it was perfect, of course it was, he was a brewing genius, wasn’t he? He congratulated himself and with something that almost bordered on contentment he lifted the goblet to his lips for another satisfying sip—and promptly spilt it down his front when his arm jerked with a Summons.

Severus sighed heavily as he cleaned up the mess and stood to retrieve his coat and robes. He cast a small, slightly longing glance at his cosy little corner, casting a stasis over it before he picked up his mask. It had felt like a _Mask Required_ type of Summons. Perhaps they’d go carolling. Maybe there would be mistletoe. Or maybe the Dark Lord just wanted to watch how far he could arch while screaming until he snapped his spine. Either way, Severus was sure it would be memorable.

As usual, and to his slight disappointment, Severus was correct in his predictions. Potter had slipped from the Dark Lord’s grasp yet again, escaping a carefully laid trap that had been set in Godric’s Hollow. Voldemort was fuming, and Lucius was petulant. He’d been the one to disguise the snake with a tidy little bit of magic, so if they’d succeeded he would have rocketed into the coveted Least Likely to Get Cursed position. As it was, he had found himself in the less desired Most Likely to Be Blamed role. Severus arrived just as Lucius was enjoying a close, face-down experience with his favourite carpet.

“Severus. I require your _lighter_ touch,” Voldemort stated from his position over Lucius’ prostrated form.

“I am at your service. Anything you need, my Lord,” Answered Severus, for once a little confused. Why would Potter go to Godric’s Hollow when it was such an obvious place for him to visit?

“Bring the girl,” Ordered Voldemort and Severus watched with some small surprise as a pale, dirty-looking Luna Lovegood was brought out by Draco.

“Have you remembered where Harry Potter is?” Voldemort demanded, and Severus watched Miss Lovegood’s throat work as she swallowed. She shook her head silently.

“Even with Draco’s attempts at persuasion—“ Severus stole a quick glance at the haunted visage of Draco, who had probably discovered that daydreams of power and respect were nothing like torturing a classmate. “—our guest is still struggling to provide us anything useful. I need her as leverage, see what you can find,” Ordered Voldemort. Severus assumed he’d been brought in as everyone else skilled in Legilimency preferred the Shock and Awe approach that tended to obliterate minds as they smashed through, tearing them apart to find what they needed. A dead, or insane, prisoner wasn’t as useful.

Miss Lovegood’s mind was...different. Clouds of fear surrounding her most recent memories that bled into worry for the safety of her father, of her friends....of Potter. Memories of himself as Headmaster were redolent with foreboding and disappointment, he seemed taller, darker and cruel. Severus was certain she had no idea where Potter was, or even what he was doing, the fear around her thoughts of him was vague, indistinct, ever-changing. Underneath it all was a steady current of belief that everything would work out. Severus withdrew from her mind.

“She has no knowledge of the boy’s activities or current whereabouts,” He reported to Voldemort.

“Show me,” Voldemort said, and he tore into Severus’ mind. Severus thrust the the sudden shot of pain behind his walls and pushed forward what he had experienced in Miss Lovegood’s thoughts. Voldemort glanced over the girl’s concerns of Potter, but lingered more over her thoughts of Severus before abruptly removing himself.

“Yes,” Said Voldemort. “That is unfortunate.” He stared balefully at Miss Lovegood, who stood silently, looking at the floor.

“At the very least, her presence here is motivation for her father to reconsider what content he publishes,” Severus commented offhandedly, sensing the desire to keep Miss Lovegood alive and intact was faltering. “There are a great many who read and are influenced by The Quibbler.”

Voldemort turned to Yaxley.

“I want you to pay a visit to Mr Lovegood and have a firm discussion regarding my expectations of him,” He said. Yaxley apparated away and Severus felt weak with relief.

“Severus. Return to the school and alert me if you hear anything. He may try to return to the school.”

Severus nodded, and watched Lucius roll over to face up.

“My Lord, with your approval may I speak with Draco before I leave? He may have news from the train that may be useful to me.”

“Yes,” Said Voldemort. “Take his useless father with you.” He indicated Lucius with a dismissive gesture.

Severus bent over Lucius and helped him up, supporting him through the door and out through the hall into Narcissa’s sitting room with Draco trailing behind them.

“How bad is it?” Lucius asked through bloodied lips as Severus lowered him onto a chair.

“I’ve seen worse,” Said Severus, handing him a blood replenisher potion.

“How’s my hair?” Asked Lucius, downing the vial.

“That depends,” Said Severus dryly. “Do you think mine is alright?”

“Oh fuck,” Said Lucius, lying back. “That bad?” Severus rolled his eyes. He looked up as Narcissa came in and took the situation in with a cool look. She strode to Lucius’ side and Severus handed her the Dittany so she could start on his wounds. Severus turned to Draco.

“Did you learn anything on the train?” He asked.

“Nothing useful,” Draco said sullenly. “There’s a group, they are working against you, but I don’t know where they are hiding in the castle.”

“Do not concern yourself. The castle will hold no secrets from me,” Lied Severus smoothly. He placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Help your mother,” He said. “I must go back to Hogwarts.” Draco shrugged, which Severus assumed meant he would. It didn’t matter really. Severus only suggested it to distract Draco from dwelling on whatever it was he was forced to cast on Miss Lovegood. He wasn’t quite sure whether he would now be able to stomach his wine and snacks, but he was going to give it a red hot go. And with this, Severus forced away Miss Lovegood’s face, Lucius’ broken nose and Draco’s shadowed eyes back under the Black Lake in his mind and apparated away.

 


	21. The forest of Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the magnificent Corylea who found more errors than plot.

Severus stared suspiciously at the two packages placed incongruously on the desk in his outer room. He’d spent all Christmas Day in his chambers, reading and napping. He hadn’t expected gifts, so he hadn’t come out of his room to look for them. But here it was, the day after Christmas and he had two of them. He sucked his teeth pensively. He decided they could be one of two things; either something gross wrapped up as a prank, or something dangerous wrapped up as an assassination attempt. He cast a multitude of detection and revealing spells, but both packages sat there innocently, being nothing but packages.

Severus inched closer to them. The larger package was in a dark, velvet-type wrapping, held together by a silver chain with something glinting from it. Severus cocked his head slightly to peer down (he’d been refusing to admit he may need glasses) and saw the delicate “M” nestled in some folds. Something from Lucius, perhaps? He looked at the size of the package with something approaching concern. He hoped it wasn’t a body part, or a gigantic dildo, or some terrible combination of both those things.

He carefully pulled aside the chain and watched the package spill open. Black cloth spilled across the table. Confused, Severus lifted up the bundle of fabric. They were a set of teaching robes. Almost exactly the same as his current set except obviously made from beautiful, expensive fabric. Severus frowned and cast a diagnostic, noting a hint of something to the back of the robes. The spell revealed the fabric had been impregnated with a low level protection charm. While they wouldn’t completely stop a hex, they would dramatically reduce the impact of it. Fabric that could hold magic like this was beyond very expensive, into the realms of ludicrous. It was very possibly from Lucius, but far more likely to be from Narcissa. A thank you for Draco, he supposed. It would be incredibly useful.

Severus turned his attention to the second package, wrapped neatly in green. Slicing the paper with his wand revealed a small box. Severus opened the box to see a small note which read _Headmaster, Best Wishes for the Season and Good Health for the Upcoming Year, Slytherin House_. Severus lifted the note to reveal the small gift underneath. A bezoar. He laughed. If it had been from anyone else, he would have recognised it as a threat. From his former House, it was something different, part show of support and part warning. Obviously they had heard some rumours concerning his apparent imminent demise. Severus shook his head in amusement. Well, it was useful at any rate, and probably would be popped into the pocket of any robes he wore...just in case. He opened the bottom desk drawer to put the small—now empty—box away, and his attention was immediately drawn to the scrap piece of paper lying within. It was his original research, the one where he’d identified Basila and effectively signed her death warrant. He closed the drawer. Damn. Well, that had killed his brief feelings of levity.

Severus was distracted by these thoughts and dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his temples. He heard a rustle behind his head and Phineas’ excited voice.

“Headmaster! They are camping in the Forest of Dean! The mudblood—“ ^^

“Do not use that word!” Severus half-shouted, clutching his head in frustration. He had yet to fully come to peace with the idea that portraits couldn’t really change. Phineas was painted as the intolerant grump he was when living, so why Severus kept thinking he would change while living as a painting was beyond him. ^^

“—the Granger girl, then,” Said Phineas solicitously, curling his lip. “—mentioned the place as she opened the bag, and I heard her!” ^^

“Good. Very good!” Albus sounded very pleased, and the other portraits around him chattered to each other excitedly. “Now Severus, the sword! Do not forget that it must be taken under conditions of need and valour—and he must not know that you give it! If Voldemort should read Harry’s mind and see you acting for him—“ ^^

“I know,” interrupted Severus brusquely. Honestly, he’d been hiding all sorts of things from Voldemort successfully for years now; he certainly didn’t need the patronising reminder, thank you very much. Severus used the resulting surge of irritation to good use and wrenched the portrait of Albus aside, reaching into the hidden compartment behind to pull out the sword.^^

“And you still aren’t going to tell me why it’s so important to give Potter the sword?” Severus said almost conversationally as he pulled his cloak on. He bloody knew exactly what they wanted it for, but he he wanted to know how long the portrait would hold it from him. He felt slightly smug, the same feeling he had in front of Voldemort when he had survived another Summons. It was, in a way, the only thing he had over the wizards who pulled his strings. They thought they knew everything about him and he was vulnerable and defenceless as result. They didn’t, of course. And he wasn’t. ^^

“No. I don’t think so,” Albus said, just as Severus expected. “He will know what to do with it. And Severus, be very careful, they may not take kindly to your appearance after George Weasley’s mishap.” ^^

Snape was almost at the door, but he turned in disbelief at this piece of inanity from Albus. _George Weasley’s mishap?_ Yes. That was _definitely_ the crime burning in Potter’s mind. Not the years of torment Severus had fostered as his teacher, or Potter watching as he killed Albus. No. It was where he accidentally hexed off George Weasley’s ear. That was it. He smirked humourlessly.

“Don’t worry, Dumbledore,” Severus told him loftily. “I have a plan.” ^^

It took Severus a while to find them in the forest, and that was only because he stumbled across Granger poking around the base of some trees. It took him a few minutes to deduce she was looking for mushrooms. He was quite taken aback by her appearance. She looked quite unhealthy, Severus thought to himself; he could see her clothes were hanging off her a bit. Her hair looked wild and brittle, and there were dark patches under her eyes.

He followed her discreetly for a while, and observed her smile wanly when she managed to Stun a rabbit. She turned around and bit her lip, as if considering which way to go. Then she drew her wand. “Point me”, she whispered, and the wand spun on her hand. She nodded and followed the direction the tip was facing. Severus had never seen or heard of that spell, which appeared to provide a simple directional prompt. Had...had Granger made it up herself? Perhaps she had, she had always proven herself a desperate overachiever. Although. It _was_ impressive.

She would have found a good mentor in Filius, Severus pondered, if she’d gone to his House. Minerva was alright, but tended to lavish more attention on her Quidditch stars. Granger would have drawn her interest primarily due to her friendship with Potter, as opposed to anything else. Granger, followed by Severus, walked for a few minutes before stopping suddenly. Severus watched an arm extend from the middle of nowhere, which Granger grasped, then vanished as she stepped forward. Speaking of overachieving, Severus admitted grudgingly to himself, her wards were very strong.

Severus watched the area for the rest of the day. He only saw Granger out of the shielded area and the arm of either Potter or Weasley, pulling her back in. Once she recast the protection wards, with an interesting wrist flick at the end which Severus thought may have increased the length of time the wards held, but he wasn’t sure. He’d want to be closer to catch it, and he couldn’t risk that. The other times she was collecting food or water. She couldn’t be the best at foraging, Severus thought, watching Granger return virtually empty handed to the area. Surely not. Then it dawned on him. She was considered the most expendable.

Severus frowned at this realisation. There was nothing beyond the prophecy that made Potter special, anyway. He hadn’t any particularly interesting talent beyond his skill on the broomstick and was genuinely average in schooling. He just happened to survive being attacked by a megalomaniac and now was the point of obsession for a number of wizards...and witches, if the faculty lounge gossip machine had been correct. Granger did have a tendency to irritate her classmates with her classroom behaviour, and as one insufferable know-it-all to another, Severus thought humourlessly, that type of personality was a friendship graveyard. Still, despite her failing efforts in humility, she was far cleverer and more talented than her idiot compatriots, and if her depressingly long essays were anything to go by, worked her guts out as well. But she would be sacrificed in order to save Potter—she would even volunteer for the task. Severus huffed in amusement. Well, they had something in common at least.

He staked out the near vicinity and located an icy pond which he decided would surely fit the requirements of the high-maintenance piece of weaponry. It was freezing cold, so jumping in to get the sword would be incredibly uncomfortable, which in itself was an immensely satisfying thought. Severus carefully tracked his way back towards where he’d located their tent and redoubled his Warming charm before sitting on a fallen tree. He cast the Patronus charm, calling her forth again, and she came to him, dipping her nose into his palm. It was probably the last time he would say the spell; he couldn’t foresee any future scenario where he would require it. And he didn’t want to cast it again if he didn’t have to. 

Under his instruction, the doe picked her way towards where he knew the tent was. Severus didn’t have to wait long until Potter walked out of the wards towards her. Potter looked just as bad as Granger. He was thin and wan, and had the type of vaguely dirty look that you get from using Cleansing charms as opposed to bathing. Severus felt a prick of concern that he immediately stamped on the head.

He focused his attention on the doe, who led Potter to the pond, followed by a Disillusioned Severus. She reached the spot, and turned her head, looking past Potter at him. His breath caught in his throat, and as Potter ran to her, Severus cancelled the spell with a flick of his wand. She was gone, for the last time. Severus observed Potter finally deduce the location of the sword, then was slightly perturbed to see him strip to his underwear and enter the frozen pond. _Well, that was unexpected._

A minute or so passed and Severus began to slightly panic. Fuck. Potter was going to drown in the stupid pond. He was going to kill Potter. Shit. Severus shucked his outer robe in preparation. Right. He’d get a Potter out, dry him off, Obliviate any memories of himself, and hopefully he and the sword would find their way back to the tent. Severus was starting to move forward when he was dreadfully relieved to see Weasley appear and immediately duck into the pond to pull Potter out. Severus decided it was a sign of tough times to react with such relief upon seeing the youngest Weasley boy. Severus pulled his robe back on, and watched idly as Potter and Weasley spoke to each other, gesturing to something on the ground that Severus couldn’t see from his position. Weasley then lifted the sword above his head, aiming at whatever it was that was on the ground.

Severus watched as two forms, that seemed oddly familiar, bloomed out of nowhere until they shuddered and snapped into peculiar versions of Potter and Granger. Severus’ brow furrowed in confusion, _what was this?_ Potter was shouting at Weasley, who seemed transfixed by the figures. In particular he seemed focused on the shimmering version of Granger. To be fair, mused Severus thoughtfully, it was a stranger, more sinister version of Granger.....but a stranger, sinister, smoking-hot version. It must be some serious magic to perform such a feat, Severus decided, quite uncharitably. No wonder Weasley was standing there completely baffled. _Hormones_ , Severus snorted. The slightly menacing Potter and Granger figures were saying something Severus couldn’t make out, and the real Potter was still shouting at Weasley. Severus could barely hear Potter pleading with Weasley to destroy the source of the strange figures. But Weasley was just....standing there, looking horrified. Severus’ eyebrows nearly met at the top of his head when suddenly the Potter and Granger figures started passionately kissing. Well, bloody hell—he didn’t know Granger had it in her. Potter on the other hand, it was obviously in his blood. Stealing the affections of witches was a family trait after all, Severus observed spitefully. He immediately regretted the thought. It was a Death Eater’s thought. Women as prizes, possessions—that sort of thing.

Severus’ attention was drawn back to the Potter and Granger figures who were _really_ getting into it. He was beginning to feel a bit creepy standing there watching it, then it occurred to him he had just described a teenage girl in his mind as _smoking hot_ , and he multiplied that feeling by a thousand. The final straw to break the Creepy Old Man back was the sudden realisation that Granger was only really two or three years younger than Lily was when she died. He felt a strange mix of sadness, loneliness and disgust. Severus shook his head to clear the thoughts. He was becoming more easily distracted these days, and that was dangerous. His attention was thankfully directed towards Weasley swinging the sword—something screamed and the sinister versions of Potter and Granger vanished, leaving the less attractive version of Potter and a traumatised-looking Weasley. Well, he’d delivered the sword, the trio had their weapon, and were apparently working through some delicate personal issues. It was time for Severus to leave. He was hurtling towards the end of something, but he couldn’t decide whether he felt apprehensive or relieved.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, any paragraph marked with ^^ has dialogue taken directly from Rowling’s Deathly Hallows. :))


	22. Post-forest blues

Severus didn’t apparate back to Hogwarts immediately, instead he decided to stop off at Glasgow for a drink and something to eat. It would haze the memory of the forest and whatever the hell it was that he saw, which would make it easier to hide in his mind.

While waiting for his meal, he drank his pint and wondered what Potter and company would do now. If they were Death Eaters they would immediately celebrate their small victory with some type of debauchery. Perhaps a threesome. Severus had never been invited to be a participant in any of the threesomes that Riddle had encouraged back in the day. He’d been relegated to observer status, which had been a fairly terrible experience. If he’d kept his eyes open it had just been a whole lot of fleshy bits being pushed together, but he found closing his eyes was even worse. The sucking....squelchy....squealing sounds had been both grating and nauseating. It obviously was far more fun _doing_ it as opposed to standing around watching it. He shuddered. In any case, he wasn’t exactly sure how it all worked. He had a few ideas, but nothing based on real life experience beyond whatever he’d seen. Now, onesomes. He knew _all_ about them. He was a total expert in onesomes. King of the onesomes!

Severus cast his mind back to the forest. The tent inhabitants weren’t sexually deviant cult devotees though, they were teenagers. He couldn’t imagine there was a threesome occurring in the tent, and even if there was, then surely Granger was telling Potter and Weasley they were doing it the Wrong Way. He smirked to himself. She was probably right now throwing up her hands up in frustration, chucking them out and insisting on doing everything herself. Because, at least then it would be done right. But first; a four foot essay on exactly how many inches a wizard should be packing in his pants, with an unnecessary paragraph (just crying out for extra credit) on _The Correct Pressure For A Witch’s Optimal Stimulation._

“Oh, hello!” Said someone to his right, and he turned to see a very pretty, very familiar, blonde woman.

“Hello,” Severus said, tremendously relieved muggles had no Legilimency skills, and therefore had no idea he’d been musing on the sexual adventures of seventeen....wait....eighteen year olds.

“I bet you don’t remember me,” she said, smiling.

“You tried to get me to suck your huge, hard, and tasty cock in the movie theatre,” Severus replied, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not something a man forgets easily.” The bartender shot them an interested look. Oh damn, he’d said that a bit louder than he’d planned.

“Yes, that’s right!” The woman, Deedee, laughed.

“How’s married life?” Severus asked, wondering when his food would arrive. It promptly did, saving him from trying to pretend he knew how to talk to a woman in a bar.

“Wouldn’t know,” Deedee replied, shrugging. “He got a handjob from someone who was definitely _not_ me on his bucks night, so I called the wedding off.”

“I’d say you caught a lucky break then,” shrugged Severus.

“Probably,” Deedee agreed. “So what about you?”

“No, I didn’t give your ex-fiancé a handjob,” Severus deadpanned as he stabbed at the plate in front of him with his fork. Deedee knocked his shoulder gently with hers.

“Oh my god! You idiot. I mean, what have you been up to?”

“General unpleasantness.”

“I see. Is that normal for you?” Deedee asked, looking amused.

“Yes. I’m just generally unpleasant,” he answered, eating a piece of tomato.

“Are you sure? You seem very pleasant to me.”

“That’s because you don’t know me,” Severus explained.

“Well, maybe. But people are often hard to read. Fergus, my ex-fiancée, he had all the appearances of being pleasant. But it turned out he was a piece of shit. So, you know, I’ve had to rethink how good I am at telling pleasant from unpleasant,” Deedee said, somewhat wistfully.

“Your problem is thinking people can only be categorised once,” Severus said, unconsciously falling back into his ‘teaching voice’. “People are not _all_ pleasant or unpleasant _all_ the time. And often a pleasant person can do unpleasant things, and vice versa. You just have to figure out _how_ unpleasant the unpleasant parts are, and whether you accept them or not.”

Deedee took a thoughtful pull on her drink.

“That’s very deep thinking for this time of the evening. But I expect you are right. In that case, the cheating was probably _too_ unpleasant for me.”

“Well there you go then,” Severus continued eating.

“I’m off to meet my friends at another bar. You met most of them at the movies. You are welcome to come along if you are free. No cocks this time,” she grinned at him.

“Unfortunately I have to return to work,” Severus declined, feeling surprisingly disappointed. Another kitten attack would have gone down a treat; but spending too much time in the muggle world was dangerous.

“Over Christmas? That’s some pretty serious work stuff you do. Life and death importance I suppose?”

“Constantly,” Severus said. “It’s a pain.”

“Well then. Enjoy your painful job, and maybe I’ll see you around again,” teased Deedee.

“Maybe,” said Severus. It was a shame. He couldn’t risk returning to Glasgow. Deedee was exactly the type of muggle Rodolphus would salivate at the idea of grabbing, then taking to the Manor. Severus didn’t think she’d struggle to distinguish between pleasant and unpleasant if that happened. He sighed. He probably should drink more, in order to make the memory fuzzy. Deedee grabbed her coat off the chair next to her, waggled her fingers at him and left. Severus sighed again, and ordered another drink.

Severus was tipsy when he apparated back to Hogwarts. This rapidly spiralled into blitzed out of his mind after he raided the stash in his chambers. The whole day really needed to be written off. _Really_ written off. The sword, the doe, Potter, hot-evil-Granger, nick-of-time Weasley, and even Deedee were all far too dangerous memories to allow them to be vulnerable to Voldemort. For the first time in a while he drank so much he fell asleep before he could take a Sober-Up.

He deeply regretted this action upon waking up and feeling like utter shite. He could hardly believe his father lived as long as he did, given this is what he would have felt like almost every morning. He would try and punch it out of his system throughout the day, then wallow in self-pity, drink himself into a stupor and start it all again the next day.

Severus groaned as his stomach told him urgently to disengage all contents immediately. He fumbled around for the potion and swigged it. There would be a few minutes before it started to work; minutes best spent sitting in the shower. He felt the Summons as he was cradling his face, with the spray pounding on the back of his head. Severus decided he was glad, after all, that he had drunk so much the night before. He lurched out of the shower, and dried himself quickly. He pulled on his standard black pants, white shirt and black coat combination, before throwing his new robes over the top.

When he arrived at the Manor, Lucius and Narcissa were sitting on one of their garden benches, overlooking their topiary. Narcissa was softly patting her husband’s hand.

“It’s a welcome change to see you looking something other than atrocious,” observed Lucius. That solved the riddle of who had sent the robes, Severus decided. Although, he wouldn’t have guessed Lucius, as the present had seemed uncharacteristically thoughtful.

“Although....there is nothing one can do about the rest,” Lucius continued, his eyes sweeping over Severus’ wan complexion and limp hair. _Well fuck you very much_ , Severus thought. Thankfully Lucius was always able to immediately put a halt to anyone having charitable thoughts regarding him, by just being his normal charmingly offensive self. He and Lucius, they were...Severus could only really think of the word _friend_ , but that wasn’t right. They were as much friends as a wolf and a fox. A well-fed wolf may permit a fox to move through his territory unharmed. They both may hunt the same smaller, more vulnerable animals, but their roles as predator and prey were established and unchanging.

“Severus,” Narcissa acknowledged his arrival and broke through his reverie. Lucius turned briefly toward her. Severus saw that although the nose had been straightened, there was a noticeable, silvery, scar bisecting it where the gash had been. It almost reached his temple. Severus rummaged inside his robe, and pulled out a small pot of balm, which he handed to Lucius.

“Rub it into the scar three times a day until the balm is all gone,” Severus instructed Lucius. “I improved the formula substantially, you will have no scar.”

“I appreciate it,” Lucius said stiffly, taking the balm.

“I did it for Narcissa,” Severus shrugged. “After all, she’s the one that has to look at you.”

Narcissa let out a small, restrained giggle. Both men turned in surprise. Severus hadn’t heard her laugh in...well, he couldn’t remember.

“Besides, the Dark Lord doesn’t seem to appreciate scars located in the facial region. Particularly those on the forehead,” Severus said pointedly. Lucius bared his teeth.

“How delightful these moments we have are, Severus. So.... _witty_.” Lucius said, a little nastily.

“The Dark Lord is expecting you inside. You’d best not delay,” Narcissa interjected smoothly. She’d obviously had enough of the show.

“Yes,” agreed Severus.

“Enjoy,” smirked Lucius, earning an eye-roll from Severus. _Pompous twat_.

Voldemort was waiting for him inside, looking impatient. That was probably not the greatest sign.

“My Lord,” Severus said, bowing deeply

“You were too long in responding to my Summons,” Voldemort commented angrily. That wasn’t a particularly good sign either.

“I apologise, my Lord. I was recovering,” Severus told him deferentially. If there was something Voldemort was used to, it was dealing with wayward followers and their poor drinking habits.

“What have you been up to Severus?” Voldemort asked suspiciously, suddenly spiking hard into Severus’ mind. Severus offered up the rolling sensation of lying down—intoxicated—and mixed in the unanticipated (and surprising) stab of arousal he’d felt in the Forest of Dean (that had been immediately submerged by a wave of guilt and self-loathing). He added a blurred flash of Deedee’s pretty, smiling face, and the horrendous hangover he’d woken up to. Voldemort chuckled.

“Severus. Always so.... _serious_. Hedonism is supposed to be enjoyable. If you’d let yourself that is.”

“Yes my Lord,” answered Severus. “But I struggle to do so, when there is still so much to achieve.”

“You are right,” Voldemort observed. “Yet you alone, amongst my followers seem to grasp how far we still have to go.” He studied Severus momentarily, and Severus wondered if he’d pushed it too far.

“How can I assist you, my Lord?” Severus asked, hoping to draw Voldemort’s attention back to the reason for his required presence.

“I require your brewing skills Severus. Lucius has set up a place where you can work in the back wing of the house. You’ll find a list of what I need you to prepare.”

“May I please have Master Malfoy assist me, my Lord? He is well used to working under my direction,” Severus wasn’t quite sure why he’d asked that. It would give him an opportunity to check on Draco’s well-being however.

Voldemort waved his hand in approval. Severus turned to Draco, who was standing silently against a wall.

“Come with me,” he ordered and Draco walked after him.

The list left for Severus was long; very long. He’d be brewing all night and into the next day, for starters at least. Happy fucking Christmas indeed. He grimaced and reached for the mortar and pestle.

“Draco, start on the Valerian Root,” Severus instructed, and turned to collect the Flobberworm Mucous. Thankfully he was no longer nauseous, or he definitely would have vomited. The only downside to potions—Severus had long believed—was being constantly surrounded by gross things. Gross things that left their uniquely pungent scent on him as they boiled away in a cauldron. It didn’t take long for them to make their indelible mark on him, until he became a gross thing himself. Or so the people around him, mostly his students, liked to infer. It was typical of the stupidity of children. Severus was as clean as anyone else, what did they expect a Potions Master to smell like, freshly baked bread and honey-cakes?

The one potion that Voldemort had never requested Severus to brew for him was Felix Felicis. Never. Not even once. He’d brewed a stash for Dumbledore on one occasion. He was fairly sure Dumbledore had used it for weird things like throwing a killer staff party one New Years and choosing socks. If Severus had wanted to kill someone as badly as Riddle wanted to kill Potter, he’d have take the potion straight up. But he’d never asked. Perhaps he thought it was cheating. Or, Severus suddenly thought, perhaps he didn’t trust Severus to brew it for him. That thought was a little too worrying, so Severus decided to push it to one side and focus on the brewing at hand. It wouldn’t do to mess up anything over the next day and a half. If he wanted to live longer than a day and a half, that is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs to Corylea. Who has been incredibly generous with her time and knowledge, and is so sweet and patient. You da best. Xxoo.


	23. The Lovegood question

Severus awoke to the gentle chiming of his timing charm. He thought perhaps he had been dreaming, and that the dreaming had been vaguely erotic. He rubbed his face as he tried to remember it before it floated to pieces and dissolved. He could remember....oh fuck. He dropped his head into his hands. His mind had obviously decided to revisit the Forest of Dean.

How utterly he loathed himself. _He was repulsive_. He shut his eyes in disgust. What an _amazing_ time for his dormant libido to return. And what a _fantastic_ stroke of luck it was for him to witness the steamy woodland show. And how incredibly _innovative_ it was for his mind to introduce the two concepts to his sleeping self. It wasn’t even remotely creepy...or lecherous. He didn’t really need the extra memory to regret, but there it was. He decided to try and block it all out, try to forget about it, and check on the potions.

He stood up from the chair he’d been sleeping in, and walked over to the row of cauldrons. He stirred the ones that needed to be stirred, doused flames on those that needed to be doused, and stoked the flames on those that needed to be stoked. Everything looked fine. He’d been brewing for twenty-six hours straight. And excepting the short nap he’d just taken (with the Dream That Shall Not Be Named) he hadn’t slept.

Severus felt like his eyes were on stalks, but he was oddly content. The smells of the ingredients, the simmering potions and even the feeling of the warm, moist air made him nostalgic. It took him back to his simple days as the surly potions Professor. When the biggest worries of his day were preventing students from blowing up the classroom and deciding whether he was recycling his insults too rapidly.

The small, fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled as the unmistakable sound of excited yells drifted down the hallway. Excited yells in the Manor were a portent of doom. It generally meant death, or torture, or torture then death...or torture worse than death....or a torturous death. Severus hoped everyone had forgotten he was at the back of the house, diligently working through Voldemort’s list. He paused. The sounds faded. Ah, they had forgotten him. Excellent. He checked on his cauldrons indulgently, smiling like a proud parent at the simmering liquids within.

There was something about brewing that satisfied him deep inside. Severus decided it was the feeling of competency. Currently, every other aspect of his life was complete bollocks, and he was exhausted from constantly planning every little detail out to prevent any nasty little surprises. But with potions he was almost unmatched. Each complicated step was memorised. Every innovative alteration he’d developed was perfectly executed each time. At least in his laboratory he was the master of his own destiny; there his life became a series of small, flawless triumphs. He did not allow failure into that room.

Severus paused as he heard footsteps down the hall, increasing in volume, indicating the footsteps were coming his way. Someone obviously had remembered he was here. How unfortunate. He smoothed back his hair that was sodden from the steaming potions. He briefly pondered casting a drying charm on it, but decided against it. The hair helped him appear like he was in the middle of something. He could try and feign that he was at a critical brewing point, and therefore couldn’t join in whatever nameless horror was being perpetrated out in the main room.

“Snape.”

Severus looked up to see Vaisey at the door.

“What is it? I’m busy,” Severus lied.

“You’re needed.”

“I have to finish the potions, and I don’t trust anyone else in this house to—oh,” Severus was cut off as Vaisey moved aside and Severus saw Narcissa behind him. Well that screwed him. Narcissa was very competent at potions, obviously where Draco had got his skills from. Definitely not from his father. Lucius hadn’t liked working with anything that “smelt bad” or felt “weird” or “disgusting”—thus ruling out a good ninety five per cent of ingredients. He ground his teeth in irritation.

“Fine. Narcissa, you can see here when I’m up to. These ones need to be cooled and decanted, these need another hour at a rolling boil, then cooled,” he pointed at the cauldrons in turn. She nodded in understanding.

“All right, I’m coming,” Severus told Vaisey, a little petulantly to be honest.

“Travers and Selwyn were the ones that took Lovegood‘s daughter,” Vaisey explained as the walked together down the hall. “They told Lovegood to call them if Potter showed up. Apparently he and the girl are friends.”

“So, we have Potter,” Severus said calmly. Inside him, every single internal alarm was shrieking mindless terror. If they had a Potter everything was lost. And Severus knew that he would have to assist Potter to escape, even if it meant his exposure and subsequently immediate death. That was what Albus would want....what he would insist upon. Severus’ mind began pulling ideas together on potential strategies. He gave every appearance of listening to Vaisey while internally comparing, contrasting and discarding plans.

“No,” Vaisey said to Severus’ instantaneous relief. “He called them. Potter was there. There was an explosion of some kind and Potter fell through the roof, but then he apparated himself and the mudblood out of there. Potter must have cast a memory charm on Lovegood because he doesn’t even remember Potter being in the house.”

“I see,” said Severus. Thank Merlin for small mercies. Potter had escaped. However, he completely disagreed with Vaisey. It wouldn’t have been Potter who cast the memory charm or saved himself with a handy apparation. It would have been Granger. That memory spell wasn’t even taught at Hogwarts. But she was, as Severus was becoming more aware, the type of witch who didn’t consider formal schooling as the be all and end all of her magical education.

If Granger hadn’t been Potter’s swotty, bushy sidekick or Sorted into the House of Blithering Idiots, he probably wouldn’t have found her so annoying. Or, maybe he would have. Being presented with someone with characteristics that meant she could be a female version of his younger self was somewhat disconcerting, especially when he didn’t like himself very much.

“Lovegood is a write-off. He’s half mad anyway. There isn’t anything inside his scrambled head worth digging out.”

“Am I supposed to sort out the obliterated mess that Bella has left behind?” Severus asked tiredly. He hated trying to put someone back together after Cyclone Bellatrix had blitzed through.

“No. We left him at his house with Travers and Selwyn. Crazy old wizard. The Dark Lord requests you to go downstairs and find out from the girl why Potter would want to see her father.”

“Naturally,” agreed Severus. _Fuck-a-doodely doo_.

“The Dark Lord wants her alive,” Vaisey said to Severus. “She is pureblood after all. But don’t feel you have to go easy on her, she’s also a blood traitor.”

“I never go easy on _anyone_ ,” Severus retorted darkly and Vaisey laughed humourlessly.

“No. That you don’t,” he said. Vaisey stopped suddenly. He began talking quietly and quickly, but he didn’t look at Severus while he spoke.

“She took it upon herself to tutor my boy once. In Arithmancy, last year. Only Exceeds Expectations he’d ever got.”

Severus looked at Vaisey sharply, but he didn’t say anything else. Vaisey cleared his throat and walked off alone down the hall. Severus watched him walk away, then he turned to the stairs that led down to where Ollivander and Miss Lovegood were being held.

The room where the two were kept was dark and cold. Severus could dimly see Miss Lovegood lying in the far corner of the room. He strode over to her prone figure.

“Miss Lovegood,” Severus said, but there was no response from the small, curled-up pile of girl on the floor. “Miss Lovegood,” Severus repeated, louder and more firmly. The bundle undid and the dirty, sad face of Luna Lovegood looked up at him.

“Professor Snape. Are you here to torture me?” She asked resignedly.

“No. I’m here to ask you some questions,” replied Severus. She closed her eyes briefly.

“Oh. They usually do that _after_ they curse me,” She informed him in a matter-of-fact tone. Behind his Occlumency defences, Severus thought this should have made him horrified. But as it was, he just felt overwhelming tired. Severus rallied the last of his energy to maintain his facade.

“Well,” he said icily, “perhaps, with your cooperation, we won’t need to follow the usual script.”

The girl nodded slowly.

“Can you tell me the reason why Potter would visit your father?” Severus asked. Miss Lovegood’s agonised face crumpled, and Severus didn’t even need to go digging around for her thoughts. She virtually shouted them at him. Feelings of loss around her mother, her friends, and the overwhelming fear of losing her father as well. Despite this, her mind was also filled with feelings of being cherished, nurtured—Severus broke it off.

“Your father is alive, but he is custody,” He snapped at her. She relaxed immediately.

“I don’t know, unless he was looking for me. Father knows many things, but nothing I can think of that Harry would—“

“Enough,” Severus cut off her stammering. She looked bloody awful. He imagined they were starving her, and he hoped that was the worst of it. She knew nothing. It was pointless keeping her here. He strode forward with an intent to leave the room, but he heard her moving so he turned back around.

“Did you really kill Professor Dumbledore?” She asked softly.

“Yes,” Severus replied curtly.

“Did you mean to?”

Severus huffed a small laugh— _of all the people_. She was a strangely perceptive young woman.

Her mother had been a very powerful witch, Severus remembered. Powerful, intelligent and incredibly innovative. If Severus’ memory served him correctly, Pandora Lovegood hadn’t been a fan of the staid, male-dominated Wizarding society. He had a very fond recollection of her going toe to toe with the Minister about some stupid marriage law thingy. Severus had read about it in the The Daily Prophet.

It had been almost two decades ago, after Voldemort had been killed (unsuccessfully as it turned out). Pandora had gone to the Ministry to discuss the law. There was an altercation and whatever it was that she’d done had closed the Ministry for a week. Furthermore, the scuttlebutt around the law had immediately stopped. No one had mentioned the law again. Severus had been quietly relieved. He could only imagine, with a faint sense of horror, sitting across the breakfast table from a witch, visibly disappointed at being forced to marry him. Or even worse, lying in bed next to them! He was not even going to let himself imagine how exponentially the disappointment would have ramped up in _that_ particular context. It would be like when McGonagall's instructed Phryne O’Brien to partner with him during their Gryffindor/Slytherin dance lesson prior to the Yule Ball. She had cried. And cried some more. And kept crying until she made herself sick. Severus had pretended it didn’t bother him, but it _had_ bothered him...quite a lot actually. So—he’d been very appreciative of Pandora’s efforts to quash the law.

He’d sent her a copy of an out-of-print book on rare magical animals, anonymously, as a private thank you. The book had been a hefty tome; starting with a long discourse on aquavirius maggots and finishing with a very large chapter on wrackspurts. The book was incredibly valuable, and Severus only knew of two copies left in existence. He’d sent one of them to Pandora, but he hadn’t drawn her attention to the book’s value when he’d sent it. He’d seen the book again years later—it’s tattered edges barely held together by a library charm—in the arms of Miss Lovegood as she wandered dreamily down the corridor in her first year.

Severus closed his mind against these thoughts. He turned back towards Miss Lovegood, with his shields up and a frosty edge to his voice.

“Now Miss Lovegood. You haven’t been paying attention in your defence lessons. Intent is the key, remember? You can’t cast an Unforgivable unless you _really mean it_ ,” he said in his most menacing tone. She shrank back onto the floor. He stood over her for a little while, but she didn’t move again.

Severus returned to the parlour upstairs to report back to the Dark Lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit added the marriage law reference as a bit of an fanon inside joke. :)
> 
> Also - Luna is so awesome - of COURSE her mum was awesome. Hence I wanted us to have a little insight into that.


	24. Snatch and grab

“Dumbledore, Potter went to see Lovegood,” Severus addressed the portrait.

“Ah, yes. Excellent news. Excellent,” Albus answered, smiling and nodding. Severus bit back an overwhelming urge to rip the frame off the wall.

“Dumbledore. He nearly got himself bloody captured. If it wasn’t for Granger he _would_ have been caught.”

“Yes, yes. Remember Severus, you must have faith in Harry.”

Severus thought perhaps he didn’t want to rip the frame off the wall after all, but he did very much want to slice it in half. He exhaled a calming breath.

“Dumbledore. If we...er...I mean they catch them, the Dark Lord will kill Potter immediately. But not Granger. She’ll have a very bad time of it...to put it kindly. If that happens, I’ll do everything in my power to get her out, but I can’t promise—“

“No,” Albus cut him off, and stood up from his chair. “Miss Granger is important, as is Mister Weasley, but Harry is your _singular_ focus.”

Severus was briefly wrong-footed.

“Are you saying...”

“Severus, you and I know that some sacrifices must be made in order for Voldemort to be destroyed. Both of us have made them.”

“There is a difference,” Severus argued, jaw clenched, “with grown men deciding their own fates and deciding a teenage girl’s for her.”

“I think, knowing Miss Granger as I do, she wouldn’t care for being reduced in your eyes to merely _a teenage girl_.”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” snapped Severus. “Is that what we are in the end to you, Dumbledore? Granger, Weasley.....myself, are we all just collateral?”

“Severus. I would not ask anything of you that I have not asked of myself,” Albus replied kindly.

“Is that what Grindelwald was? _Your_ collateral? Or was it Ariana?” Severus said before he could stop himself. It was an uncharacteristic loss of control; a testament to his extreme fatigue. The painting of Albus didn’t react, but he looked unbearably sad.

“Ah. You’ve been doing some research my boy.”

“Skeeter wrote a book on you,” Severus admitted, shifting uncomfortably. The portrait sighed. The eyes behind the painted spectacles glistened, and Severus felt guilty for his outburst.

“You, of anyone, should understand the appeal of people who are charismatic but damaged; driven to seek out power. Then, the difficult journey of pulling yourself away from the darkness and realising just how far you let yourself go.”

“So much empathy now, yet you despised me when I first came to you all those years ago,” Severus choked out.

“I didn’t despise you, but I recognised that desire in you for power, your vulnerability to it still. Even as you prostrated yourself before me seeking salvation.”

“Reminded you of someone did it?” Snape retorted sarcastically.

“Indeed you did,” Albus agreed, tenting his fingers and peering over his glasses at Severus. “ _This_. This is our amends Severus.”

“Oh, _our_ amends is it? Finally we are equals are we Dumbledore? Not just the Greatest Wizard Who Ever Lived and his humble servant,” Severus mocked.

“Humble you say?” Albus teased.

“It was a turn of phrase,” Severus said archly.

“What do you want? You’ve come this far, are you getting cold feet? At this critical junction?” Albus demanded.

“I.....I just want you to care about....what I have given, what I have done,” Severus almost whispered. He was unsettled, but now he’d started the conversation he couldn’t stop it. The words were falling out of him, almost without conscious thought. It was dangerous.

“It was _you_ who requested I keep your reason for your choice a secret.”

“My reason. Yes. I will die a hated Death Eater. That is my fate,” Severus said miserably.

“Again my boy, I would not ask of you that which I would not be prepared to ask of myself.”

“Says the man who died a venerated hero,” Severus replied petulantly.

“You told me yourself you did not expect to survive the war.”

“Anticipating death is not the same as welcoming it,” Severus said painfully, he drew a hand across his face. His eyes were wet.

“No, it is not. But a life well lived—“

“—of one hundred and fifteen years compared to thirty-seven. Yes, completely comparable. And by the way, we _definitely_ have different definitions of well lived,” Severus cut Albus off.

“Severus,” Albus continued in a gentle tone, which made Severus feel both cosseted and chastised, “I wish things had been different. Our choices, and Tom’s, have all led us to this point. Without you, Harry would be lost, the Order decimated. Do not waver now.”

“I’m not wavering, I’m complaining,” Severus said indignantly.

“Complain away,” Albus said indulgently.

“I’m finished now. I’m conducting a deep and meaningful conversation with a magical artwork, my life has officially gone down the toilet.”

Albus chucked in his frame. “You have always had a way with words; an ability to succinctly summarise the situation Severus.”

“Fat lot of good it’s done me,” Severus huffed and turned away.

When he retired to his chambers it suddenly occurred to Severus he’d forgotten to ask Albus why Potter would visit Lovegood. Not that the portrait would have told him anyway.

January came, the students returned, as did the staff. Which meant more dreary days and nights trying to hose down the simmering desire of the Carrows for trouble. January soon bled into February, which also appeared to be genuinely terrible. It only occurred to Severus halfway through February that he’d missed his birthday. To be fair, everyone else had as well, although who was left to remember it? Dumbledore was gone and Minerva would much rather he stop collecting birthdays full stop and just drop dead instead. He was thirty-eight now, which perhaps was a prime age for muggles, although he was barely out of his teens in Wizard years. Perhaps this would be his lucky year. The Dark Lord would fall, Potter would fulfil his destiny and Severus could move somewhere peaceful and catch up on his sleep. He thought that would be rather lovely, but hypothesised instead that though he _would_ likely be slumbering post-war, it would be six feet underground as opposed to in Fiji.

Severus was trying to distract himself from his thoughts one night by pacing the dungeon corridors when he heard Amycus’ voice.

“Out after curfew Miss Greengrass?”

“Sorry Professor Carrow. I left my Potions text in the classroom. I was retrieving it.”

“You know the punishment for curfew violation is detention. I’m sure you don’t want that. Perhaps we can come to some sort of _arrangement_.”

“B...B...But Professor Snape gave me permission.”

Severus heard Amycus tut loudly.

“Oh Miss Greengrass, I seriously doubt that. Hmmmm, lying to a Professor. You are really ramping up your demerits. This definitely deserves some immediate..... _correction_.”

The lecherous overtones were very clear to Severus now. He slipped silently around the corner to observe Amycus leering over a terrified looking Astoria Greengrass. _Shit_. This was a worrying escalation from Amycus. Equal opportunity violence was one thing, but this was something...different.

“Professor Carrow. I see you have managed to impede Miss Greengrass in retrieval of her text,” Severus said smoothly, slipping out from behind Amycus. Each face changed at his arrival; Amycus to annoyance, Miss Greengrass to relief.

“Professor Snape....I didn’t expect to—“ Amycus stammered nervously.

“Miss Greengrass,” Severus said to the girl, completely ignoring Amycus. “You’ve located your text. However, as a Professor Carrow has noted, it is past curfew. You must return to your common room.” Miss Greengrass nodded at him, shooting a nervous glance at Amycus before darting away down the corridor.

Severus watched her walk away then turned to a visibly sweating Amycus.

“I’m sure Greengrass will be thoroughly diverted to hear of your plans for his _youngest_ daughter,” Severus said quietly, the menace clear in his tone.

“No...no...there were no plans,” Amycus said hastily.

“That’s right,” Severus said, looking directly into Amycus’ eyes until the wizard looked away. “There were _none_.”

After that Severus tried to patrol every night, regardless of who else was on duty. He knew the Carrows had started their Cruciatus practice sessions up again, but the incident with Miss Greengrass also troubled him. Some students hadn’t returned from the break. Some did return and almost immediately disappeared. Severus was desperately trying to cover up their absence. He had an idea they were hiding, and he would only need one guess as to where they were.

There was only one place in Hogwarts that would fit the missing students and provide appropriate refuge. Severus hoped the Carrows had never come across the Room of Hidden Things while students at Hogwarts. He strongly doubted they did. After all, the room didn’t reveal itself to just anyone.

It was an evening late in February, teetering on  the edge of March that found Severus otherwise occupied. There was no sneaky patrolling for him that evening. No, he’d been given something else to do. And it was just as fantastically stupendous as every other job he’d been volunteered for.

Severus pulled on his boots, lacing them while he Summoned his robes and mask. He was leading a group of Snatchers that night. Technically, Greyback was leading them, but he had been a bit bitey lately, and the last band of ‘blood traitors’ that his group had flushed out had been too badly ravaged to identify. Voldemort hadn’t been impressed with that, so he’d told Greyback that while the moon was at the current stage he needed some...close supervision.

There had been a bit of interest in the crowd in the potential vacancy. Going out with the Snatchers meant being out of the Manor, and away from the pressures of the Dark Lord’s surveillance. There was also the bonus opportunity of burning off some residual stress with some random acts of violence. So there had been quite a bit of jostling for the position, with Severus standing to the side, biding his time until he could return to his chambers. He must have let down his guard, as his attempts to avoid Voldemort’s attention had not go unnoticed by someone else.

“My Lord,” Bellatrix had piped up through the voices, “what a wonderful opportunity for Severus this is.”

The others had turned to look at her, then at him. It was never, ever, ever a good start when Bella used his first name, Severus thought. Never. He remained still, but had watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye. It was better to try and cut her off at the pass then let her build up steam. He’d learnt that lesson previously the hard way.

“It would be indeed,” he interrupted smoothly, “if the term had not begun at Hogwarts.” He had tried to look crestfallen at missing such an amazing excursion.

“Oh I think they could do without you for one night,” Bellatrix purred. “After all, I can’t even remember the last time you were able to let your hair down.” Severus hadn’t missed the faintly revolted look she cast over his limp locks. It wasn’t that he hated Bellatrix, he just wanted her not to exist in any way. She had zero redeeming features, and for some reason put a Herculean effort into making his miserable life even more miserable.

To his disappointment and annoyance, Voldemort had thought it had been a delightful suggestion. He’d ordered Severus to take the Snatchers out and keep Greyback at bay. So this was why, on a shitty, rainy, evening he was leaving the relative comfort of the castle to go running about with a group of overexcited idiots. He finished buttoning his cloak and tucked the mask in a pocket. It didn’t matter who saw him on the way to the apparation point now. He was so universally loathed and feared at the school now it was impossible for it to get any worse without him actually _being_ Voldemort.

A hour later Severus was scanning another pointless piece of forest with the aforementioned group of idiots. Greyback was positively foaming at the mouth and Severus could almost see the pheromones wafting from him. They were very strong. That suggested it was very close to his turning time. The rain didn’t help things either. Despite the Imperturbable charms all Severus could smell was wet dog.

“Anything there Snape?” One of the Snatchers asked him jovially. Severus had to hand it to them, they were remaining cheerful despite the miserable conditions. It all boiled down to job satisfaction he supposed.

“Maybe,” Severus replied. Greyback growled next to him.

“Yes. I smell them,” he muttered, eyes rolling in his head.

“Well, that’s handy,” Said Severus absentmindedly. Greyback lunged forward suddenly, sprinting into the trees. Severus and the remaining Snatchers shared a quick glance before they started running after him.

It only took a minute for Severus to realise that running in robes was almost counter-productive, and his heart was pounding from the exertion. His breath was condensing uncomfortably on the inside of the mask, but he didn’t want slow down to remove it in case he lost Greyback. In saying that however, he’d had outrun Hagrid’s murderous hippogriff after all, surely he could outrun a middle-aged werewolf. Severus discovered he was gaining on Greyback, who was running in a strange, zigzag motion and shaking his head furiously.

“He’s found something!” Yelled someone behind Severus excitedly. The anxiety ball that had been lodged in Severus’ stomach since Voldemort’s order doubled in size. _Please don’t let it be Potter, Please don’t let it be Potter_ his mind pleaded in time with his foot strikes. It would be typical of his luck that it would be Potter, and Severus would have to get rid of Greyback before he alerted the Snatchers. Well.....at least there was a silver lining to that scenario.

Severus was so intent on running he ran right into the middle of the wand battle. He immediately recognised a haggard looking Dirk Cresswell and Edward Tonks engaged in a vicious duel with Greyback. Severus took in the scene in one glance. To the right there was the body of a goblin, dead, or possibly unconscious, Severus couldn’t tell immediately. Another goblin and a terrified looking Dean Thomas were pulling at the limp goblin’s arm, and pleading with him to get up.

“Well done Snape!” Shouted someone behind him. The Snatchers had finally caught up. From the sound of their tortured breathing however, they weren’t in the best shape.

“Get the mudbloods!” Someone roared hoarsely behind him and figures pushed roughly past Severus, aiming at the wizards in front of them. Severus had a chance to perhaps save one. The seconds stretched out infinitely in front of him as his mind raced through calculations.

Dirk had been in the other potions class from Severus, but he was known to be immensely clever and a favourite of Slughorns. He’d been alright, Severus thought. They’d worked on an extra credit project together in third year, before the muggleborn thing had got too bad. He’d always pleasant to Severus, not friendly, but not horrible. This put him quite high up in the list of people that hadn’t been fucking terrible to be at school with. It was a short list. Dirk had gone on to pretty prestigious stuff at the Ministry, so Slughorn like to tell Severus, loudly and often. Lucius had hated Dirk as he refused bribes, and if there was something Lucius disliked more than muggleborns, it was incorruptible government employees.

Edward Tonks had also been fairly inoffensive to deal with. He’d been particularly amused to be called to the school in Nymphadora’s sixth year when she’d taken it upon herself to teach a Potions class metamorphosed as Severus. The students had caught on when she (as him!) had insisted on marking their scrolls during class, then proceeded to draw hearts on their homework using his ubiquitous red ink and marked every essay as Outstanding.

To be fair, the Hufflepuff students had taken the extreme change of behaviour in their stride, but the Ravenclaws had taken exception to everyone getting the same score regardless of effort. Severus—who’d been sick that day and Dumbledore had forgot to organise a substitute for the class—had vacillated between outraged and amused. Nymphadora insisted she was doing him a favour as he needed to “lighten up a bit”. Severus hoped that the subsequent three months of cauldron scrubbing he had dealt out was light enough for her. But while Andromeda had been livid at her daughter, Severus couldn’t help but notice Edward had tried, and failed, to hide his grin. Yeah, he was alright too. He was going to be a grandfather, Severus remembered painfully.

“Griphook, leave him, he’s dead. Run!” Screamed Mister Thomas. The boy turned to run, with the other goblin behind him. The Snatcher in front of Severus lifted his wand and Severus made his decision. A carefully aimed wandless Stunner hit Mister Thomas’ right hip, forcing him to stumble to one side and the green curse flashed harmlessly passed him.

“You missed him you idiot!” Another Snatcher screamed. But Mister Thomas had got himself together enough to apparate. He and the goblin were gone.

Severus turned his attention back to his far left where the combined forces of Greyback and the Snatchers had taken both men down. Greyback was looming over the body of Edward with a predatory smile. Severus decided not to risk it and sent a powerful Stunner Greyback’s way, knocking him unconscious. The Snatchers whooped and laughed, obviously running high on adrenalin. Severus sneered. _Bloodthirsty idiots._ It was an indication of how screwed up the current situation was when morons like the ones around him remained standing, and the talent and life that had been in both Dirk and Edward was thoughtlessly destroyed. 

“You two, grab Greyback and side-apparate back. You, grab the goblin. You, take this man,” Severus directed the men, pointing lastly at Dirk’s prone figure. He strode over to Edward’s body and turned him over. Edward’s arm fell limply to the ground, the sleeve riding up and exposing a chunky, metallic, muggle watch. Severus bent down and examined it, before pulling it from the dead man’s wrist and tucking it into his pocket.

“Spoils of war eh Snape?” Laughed one of the remaining Snatchers.

“Something like that,” Severus said coolly. He didn’t know a lot about watches, but it had looked expensive. He thought perhaps....well....perhaps Nymphadora’s child could have it. Severus wasn’t sure how that thought could actually be operationalised in any way, but he took the watch nevertheless.

Severus and his band of idiots, their unconscious canine companion and the three bodies, apparated back to the Manor. Their arrival was a cause of much interest, as were the identities of the slain wizards. Severus felt a dizzying moment of dissonance when Bellatrix recognised Edward Tonks. He could tell she was elated by his death but furious it had it been by her hand. Severus wished she were dead instead, but he assumed he was at the end of a very long line of people that wished the same thing. She stared balefully at him as Voldemort glided over.

“Ah yes. Your sister’s husband is it not, Bellatrix?” Asked Voldemort, pausing slightly. “Narcissa?” He added and the blonde woman trying her hardest to blend into one of side walls stiffened in response. Voldemort finished examining the bodies and his gaze drifted over Greyback.

“My Lord, he required some subduing,” explained Severus. Voldemort inclined his head in understanding.

“Everyone leave me, I wish to speak to Severus alone,” Ordered Voldemort. Severus pointedly ignored the glower Bellatrix was bestowing on him as she left the room. She would be plotting her next little trap, he had no doubt of that. It was exhausting. 

“My Lord,” Severus said, “I hope I have met your expectations.”

“As always Severus,” commented Voldemort. “Your consistent competency is a refreshing change amongst a sea of failure.”

Severus thought there was something a little bizarre how he appeared to garner far more respect as a Death Eater than he ever had as an Order member. He supposed they valued different things. Voldemort valued Severus’ apparently unquestioning loyalty and skills, and Dumbledore valued his ability to do all the shit stuff no one else wanted to do.

“It is my pleasure to serve,” Severus replied. Voldemort looked at him thoughtfully, or as thoughtfully as someone with _that_ face could.

“I wish to reward you,” Voldemort stretched out a pale hand towards Severus, “give me your arm.”

Severus was fairly sure whatever the reward was, he didn’t want it. But seeing there was no way out, he did as he was commanded. The last time he let Voldemort have free reign on his arm, he ended up with the Mark and a towering inferno of regrets. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but was faintly alarmed that Voldemort insisted that they had to be alone for it to occur. He didn’t like being alone with anyone in the Manor as it set off every internal alarm in his body. Being alone with someone generally meant one of three things; they wanted to convince him to do something horrible, they wanted to perpetrate some act of physical harm upon him, or they wanted him to join in an imaginative and generally depraved sexual act. Or, in other cases, it was some imaginative combination of one or more of these things.

_Please please please don’t let it be a sex thing_ , was his overwhelming thought as Voldemort drew him closer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about delay. Had some RL hurdles.
> 
> Dirk and Severus are almost the same age, so why wouldn’t they have been at school together!? 
> 
> I saw this hilarious comic once of Tonks being Snape, so I had to add that in.


	25. Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speech with this symbol "^" has been taken directly from the Deathly Hallows.

Severus landed within the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Thankfully his ‘reward’ from Voldemort hadn’t been something that made he want to scrub his body raw for days afterward. Instead, the Dark Lord had, whilst grasping his arm, imbued him with an unfamiliar nonverbal spell. Voldemort had whispered the secret to Severus; the spell that he’d invented that allowed him fly. Severus wasn’t sure exactly how much he would need to fly about the place, but he strongly suspected Voldemort’s actual motivation for teaching the spell to Severus was to give him an escape route. This made sense to Severus, so he’d been practicing around the first for a week or so. He was getting better, the robes flapped a bit if he forgot to charm them, but that was only a small worry. At least he had stopped flipping upside down. There was something to be said for attempting to retain one’s dignity.  
  
He started to walk back along the grounds. Flying _was_ fast but used up his magical reserves incredibly quickly. Unlike Voldemort, he could only stay aloft for reasonably short periods. Above him the moon was full and clear. This mean meant he could see quite well but also that somewhere out there a toothy, transformed Greyback was running amok. Severus could even make out the unmistakable form of Alecto scurrying away from Hagrid’s hut. Well there was a turn up for the books, Severus thought. What was she doing there?  
  
Severus made his way to Hagrid’s door where he was stunned to discover an incredibly festive looking—and almost certainly inebriated Hagrid—sitting under an enormous self-penned banner that proclaimed 'Support Harry'. Hagrid saw him and raised his enormous glass.  
  
“Ello Professor Snape, yeh come to me party!” Hagrid grinned. Severus’ eyebrows tried valiantly to make their way to the back of his head.  
  
“Er, no. What party is this?” Severus asked patiently, deciding that this was the best course of action since Hagrid was obviously monstrously drunk. Drunk Hagrid seemed not to remember Severus was the nasty bastard that killed Dumbledore and who tortured innocent children. How _lucky_ for Drunk Hagrid.  
  
“Support Harry. So he knows he ain’t alone,” Hagrid said, his huge eyes brimming with unshed tears. Fang lay across his feet, snoring loudly and drooling sporadically.  
  
“I see,” Said Severus, now understanding what Alecto had seen and why she was making for the castle at speed. Hagrid had to leave. _Now_.  
  
“Yeh, fer Harry,” Hagrid nodded, beaming at him. Severus suddenly realised that it had been so long since someone had genuinely smiled at him that he found it vaguely unsettling. He regrouped.  
  
“Do you think,” Severus suggested, “that perhaps you should take a walk in the forest to clear your head, or perhaps move your party somewhere else? Maybe somewhere larger, so more people can attend?”  
  
“Ev’ryone knows I’m ‘ere but,” Hagrid insisted, impressively downing his ale in one gulp. Beginning to panic, Severus decided to try another tact.  
  
“True,” Severus said trying to impart a touch of wheedling into his tone, “but people wouldn’t want to come to Hogwarts for a party. It doesn’t really _feel_ like a party place at the moment.”  
  
“‘Spect yeh right,” Hagrid agreed, showing no signs of moving. Severus felt his jaw clench in frustration. Bloody Hagrid. He was too damn Hagrid for his own good. But even a half-giant could be taken down by enough Death Eaters.....Severus blinked. Oh, now _that_ was an idea.  
  
“Did you invite your brother?” He asked suddenly. Hagrid blinked at him owlishly.  
  
“Grawp?”  
  
“Yes,” coaxed Severus, “he liked Pot—er _Harry_ a lot now, didn’t he?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah ‘e did.” Agreed Hagrid, nodding slowly. “But ‘ermione was ‘is favourite.”  
  
“Er...well, even better. He’d want to be here then, to help you show support. To _all_ of them. Perhaps you could go and find him and bring him to the party,” suggested Severus. Good luck against _that_ , he thought viciously.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Hagrid repeated. He seemed to come to a decision and stood up, making his way out the door past Severus. Severus watched the huge man weave his way unsteadily towards the forest with the dog trailing after him. Severus rubbed his face. It was the best he could do. He sighed. Life would be easier if people around him weren’t actively seeking death out at every opportunity. Speaking of death, Severus thought, it was probably prudent to hightail it to the castle before Hagrid returned with his brother, and Alecto with reinforcements.  
   
Severus was almost at the gargoyle when he heard the footsteps behind him.  
  
“Severus!” Amycus called from behind him. Severus used the luxurious seconds he was facing away from Amycus to allow the distaste to show on his face.  
  
“Amycus, what is it?” He queried pleasantly, turning on a dial. He face was neutral again.  
  
“The oaf....the groundskeeper. He....he’s supporting Potter, openly. We’re going to take him in,” Amycus said, looking at Severus expectantly. Severus lifted an eyebrow.  
  
“Well, talking to me isn’t getting it done. Get Alecto and do what you need to.”  
  
“Yes, do you want to be there? Just in case?” Amycus sounded slightly nervous.  
  
“Do you anticipate you can not handle an oversized simpleton?” Severus asked silkily.  
  
“Not at all,” Amycus scoffed. “We’ve called in reinforcements. I thought you might want to be the one to bring him in, for our Lord.”  
  
“I wouldn’t dream of taking your well earned recognition,” Severus soothed. He wouldn’t dream of being there when they came face to face with Hagrid’s terrifying brother, is what he actually meant.  
  
Amycus nodded, obviously satisfied. He was unable to control the malicious smile that crossed his face as he turned away from Severus. Amycus was obviously looking forward to some mindless violence. _Be careful what you wish for_ , Severus thought smugly inside the safety of his head.  
  
Once he was back in his chambers, Severus set himself up near his window with a tumbler of Ogdens and a set of omnioculars he’d confiscated from Fred Weasley. Before Umbridge had appeared at the school and banned everything remotely interesting, Severus had caught Weasley using them to watch the Slytherin team training. Weasley had gone pale when he looked up to see Severus towering over him and had tried fruitlessly to hide the omniculars under his robe.  
  
Initially, Severus had thought Weasley was gathering tactical information for the upcoming match against Gryffindor, but upon checking the object he discovered that the only thing Weasley had recorded was Terence Higgs taking his shirt off. He’d given Weasley a week of detention and admonished him never to record someone like that again. He’d added that if Weasley was really a courageous Gryffindor, he’d go _talk_ to Mister Higgs instead of sneaking around spying on him. Severus was quite confident Weasley never had managed that particular feat. In fact, he was fairly sure Mister Higgs was currently dating Mister Zabini. Or, at least he was when Severus was still Head of Slytherin House.  
  
Severus pointed the omnioculars out his window and was rewarded with a clear view of Alecto and Amycus leading a small group of robed figures towards Hagrid’s hut. He smirked to himself as he turned the dial to get a clearer view of the siblings. Oh yes, they were very excited. He stifled a sadistic chortle. He watched the group near the house and obviously began demanding Hagrid show himself. Severus observed the door open and Hagrid and his dog exit. The group surged forward and the Carrow’s trained their wands on Hagrid. Severus could see the triumph on the visage of Amycus. He was probably imagining the number of rungs he’d jump up with _this_ little victory, Severus thought.  
  
Hagrid shook off the assailants and made a break in the direction of the forest. Severus watched as the Carrows shot a few Stunners that bounced harmlessly off Hagrid’s back. He saw the group move as one then immediately halt. _Here we go_ , thought Severus with relish. Triumphant glee morphed to horror on the face of Alecto as she saw the giant extended himself upwards from behind Hagrid’s hut. After that, it was all over bar the shouting really. And there was indeed shouting. Lots and lots of shouting. One could almost have called it screaming. If one was so inclined. It had been a very satisfying evening all around really.  
  
It had taken a week for the Carrows to recover. Sure, their broken bones were fixed overnight, but they had looked badly shaken for days. Severus was inwardly pleased Hagrid and his enormous brother had escaped unharmed, and of course the other staff had found out about it and made numerous mocking little comments under their breaths in the most recent faculty meeting. Hooch had innocently passed around a plate of rock cakes and Minerva had sat in the middle, smiling smugly as she stroked the spine of a placid and purring copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_.

It had come to a bit of a head when Sybil had arrived late and dramatically informed Alecto that she had foreseen a meeting between Alecto and a tall, mysterious stranger. Severus had pretended not to hear. Voldemort had been particularly brutal in making his own feelings of disappointment about the whole incident clear. So on the scale of current life experiences, yes, it had been an okay week.  
  
One small fly in the okay ointment had been the re-occurrence of the Forest of Dean dream. Although, to Severus’ consternation, it had changed substantially from the first incarnation. He’d found her in a clearing as he had before, and just as before she’d held out her arms to him. He’d gone into them willingly, but then he’d just lowered his face into the crook of her neck and had simply stood there, being held. She’d stroked his hair, he thought he remembered, _without_ protective gloves...which really should have tipped him off to the fantasy status of the dream. In his dream they remained standing in the clearing. He had stayed still and silent inside her arms. That was it. That had been his whole dream.  
  
He’d awoken; initially relaxed but then increasingly annoyed as he remembered the dream. Sure, the first dream had made him worried he was becoming a lech, but this one....well...at least the other one had been erotic. Now he was being cock-blocked by his own psyche. He couldn’t even get any in his dream without being rejected. He wasn’t quite sure what that said about him, other that his ability to repulse women apparently transcended the boundaries of consciousness. It was probably too contradictory, even for him, to berate himself for having an erotic dream about a former student, then berate himself for _not_ having an erotic dream about said former student.  
  
He’d decided to try and forget the whole dream problem and focus instead on Owls and Newt preparation. Sadistic megalomaniac wizard dictator controlling Wizarding Britain or not, he was still Headmaster of a school. So, he was at his desk, perusing scrolls on examination topics provided by Minerva and Flitwick when Phineas gasped behind him.  
  
“Headmaster!” The Slytherin called from his portrait said urgently.  
  
“Yes Phineas?” Severus asked in a bored tone without looking around. After all, the last Phineas ‘emergency’ had been the Fat Lady pinching his bottom.  
  
“The girl. The girl...”  
  
“The girl.....what exactly?” Severus asked, turning around with interest in spite of his scepticism. Phineas _did_ sound unusually flustered.  
  
“Headmaster. She’s been captured. When they took her, her bag must have opened and I could hear them.”  
  
Somewhere, someone had pulled a plug out from inside Severus and it felt like all the blood had suddenly drained from his body and been replaced with pure, pulsing fear. He stood.  
  
“Granger? Are you certain Phineas?” He looked down and saw his hands were trembling.  
  
“Yes, I’m certain.”  
  
Severus Summoned his cloak. They would undoubtedly take her directly to the Manor. If he was lucky, he could intercept them on the way.  
  
“Severus, I _forbid_ it,” the portrait of Albus demanded. Severus swung around in a fury, baring his teeth.  
  
“You _forbid_ it? May I remind you that you aren’t _actually_ Dumbledore? He’s dead. You’re nothing but a reflection.”  
  
“You cannot risk yourself for this Severus,” the portrait said serenely, apparently ignoring his comment.  
  
“I can do whatever I want,” Severus said. This wasn’t technically true, but he felt good saying it.  
  
“Did I not mention the Potter boy is with her?” Phineas interjected. There was a sudden silence. He smiled superciliously. “I thought I did. I apologise. My mistake.”  
  
Severus looked back at the portrait.  
  
“Is it worth risking myself now?” He asked bitterly, looking up at Albus. He didn’t wait for a response, knowing already what it would be. He Disillusioned himself and rushed down the stairs before sprinting for the apparition point.  
  
Severus apparated a few miles from the Manor and flung himself aloft, desperately seeking any sign of the Snatchers. There was none. He decided to go directly to the Manor, dropping down in the outer garden behind the rose arch. The anti-apparation ward set by Lucius apparently wasn’t quite sure what to do with the unsupported flight spell so he manage to land unhindered within the grounds. Still Disillusioned, Severus made his way to the front door that had been left ajar, possibly by the last guest.  
  
As soon as he was inside the front door Severus could hear the screaming. Fuck. _Granger_. He stopped, took a breath and slammed down his shields. When he was calm he continued silently down the hall toward the drawing room. He stopped by the doorway and leaned slightly forward so he could see inside the room.  
  
Bellatrix was in the centre of the room, clutching the sword of Gryffindor so tightly her knuckles were white. Her other hand held her wand, which was directed at the prone body of Granger.  
  
“Where did you find this sword?” Bellatrix demanded of the crumpled form underneath her.  
  
“Found it,” gasped Granger.  
  
“Liar!” Screamed Bellatrix and Severus saw Granger’s body arch up in agony as the Cruciatus wracked her body and an involuntary howl left her mouth. He knew from experience that Bella’s Cruciatus was the worst of anyone. She would die if it continued. He could possibly grab her if he was fast enough, However, how would he escape with her?  
  
Severus had spent a few weeks at Hogwarts studying the Headmaster’s apparation point. Considering the strength of the wards that covered the castle, it was an interesting bit of magic. He’d managed to identify exactly where the spell had been unpicked, then another one placed within, and tied to the witch or wizard who occupied the Headmaster position at that point in time. He fondly thought of it as his escape hatch. He needed one here, now. It would require modifying Lucius’ wards on the fly, but there was no other way. He was glad his shields held at bay the anxiety of the situation as he closed his mind off to Granger’s sobbing and focused on the difficult magic of adjusting Lucius’ complex ward.  
  
“I’m going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? _Where_?”^ Bellatrix was snarling down at Granger, slashing her wand and sending pulses of the curse onto the girl.  
  
“We found it - we found it - PLEASE!”^ Granger begged and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes and refocused her efforts.  
  
Granger screamed in agony again, and Severus used the resulting rush of adrenaline in his bloodstream to refocus his efforts unraveling and rebuilding the ward…..with a handy little apparition point right in the middle of the room.  
  
“You are lying filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!”^  
  
Severus watched Granger shake her head and then another scream was ripped from her. _Fuck_. He had to finish. And where the fucking fuck was fucking Potter?  
  
“What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!”^

Bellatrix used her free hand to withdraw a wickedly sharp looking silver knife. Severus was very familiar with that knife. That knife had also been familiar with Severus’ right lower ribs and he still had the scar from _that_ little meeting.  
  
“Nothing. We found it,” Granger whispered hoarsely. Severus risked darting a glance at her. She was as bloody tough as nails. _Shit_. Severus looked at Granger and couldn’t help but be reminded of Basila. Muggleborn women were made of steel, he thought to himself. That meant he probably should get Granger out before Voldemort arrived and she told the Dark Lord to fuck off then died in some dramatically heroic manner.  
  
“What else did you take, what else?” Bellatrix railed at Granger, who said nothing. Bellatrix grabbed a handful of Granger’s hair and yanked her head back so she could scream into her face. “ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!”  
  
Granger arched again. Severus noticed that she was getting that floppy look that meant her body was unable to take much more punishment.  
  
“How did you get into my vault?  Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?”^  
  
_Oh, that’s right_ , remembered Severus. _The fake sword was in Bella’s vault._  
  
“We only met him tonight! We’ve never been inside your vault....it isn’t the real sword! It’s a copy, just a copy!”^ Granger gasped from the floor.  
  
Severus allowed himself to be slightly distracted from his work on the wards to be reluctantly impressed. As he could confirm from multiple repeated-exposure experiments, telling a convincing lie under torture was difficult. Telling a convincing lie under Bellatrix-inflicted torture was virtually impossible. Potter and Weasley were lucky Bellatrix was so fundamental in her perspective that she had zeroed in on Granger, obviously thinking she would be the weak link. He couldn’t imagine either of the boys managing to conceal anything in the same situation.    
  
“A copy? Oh, a likely story!”^ Bellatrix was fuming. “But we can find out easily! Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not.”^  
  
Severus flattened himself against the wall as Draco walked past him towards the stairs that led to the basement. He returned soon after with the same goblin that had been with Dirk and Edward in the forest. Severus suddenly realised that this meant, in all likelihood, Dean Thomas was also downstairs. Weasley, Potter, Lovegood and Thomas had unfortunate timing in their Hogwarts reunion. Bellatrix continued to curse Granger. Her screams, while horrifying, at least signalled to Severus she was still alive—for the moment. However he didn’t have long before the damage to her body became irreparable. From behind him, emanating out of the doorway leading to the cellar, he thought he heard the crack of an apparation. _Interesting_.  
  
“What was that? Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?” Severus heard Lucius call from inside the drawing room. “Draco - no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!”^  
  
_Bloody hell, it’s King Cross station down here_ , thought Severus as he once more pressed himself flat against the wall to allow Pettigrew past. He watched, with revulsion, Pettigrew walk towards the stairs. Severus loathed him completely. He represented so many horrendous memories for Severus, and to top it all off he had been a terrible housemate. Severus waited against the wall, but there was no sound from downstairs, and Pettigrew didn’t reappear.  
  
“What is it Wormtail?” Severus heard Lucius shout from the other room.  
  
“Nothing! All fine!”^ Shouted back someone who was definitely _not_ Pettigrew, but Severus conceded was doing a fair impression. _Even more interesting_.  
  
Severus was distracted from that thought by a another bloodcurdling scream from the drawing room. _Shit, concentrate you stupid bastard_ , Severus admonished himself. Since there was no sign of Pettigrew, real or fake, he turned his attention back to finalising the escape hatch. Back inside the drawing room Bellatrix was standing threateningly over the goblin, who was examining the sword. Granger was motionless next to them. _Shit_.  
  
“Well? Is it the true sword?”^ Bellatrix demanded.  
  
“No. It is a fake,”^ the goblin replied much to Severus’ surprise. The goblin was obviously lying, but for what aim?  
  
“Are you sure? Quite sure?”^ Bellatrix repeated.  
  
“Yes.”^  
  
Bellatrix yelled triumphantly and cut the goblin’s face, then kicking him hard as he fell. She exposed her thin arm and Severus watched in alarm as she pressed a sharp nail to her Mark.  
  
“And now we call the Dark Lord!”^ She said triumphantly.  
  
Severus turned to look behind him and saw Potter and Weasley coming up from the cellar. They both looked murderous. _Right_ , thought Severus, _this complicated things_. The escape hatch was ready, but the situation had become problematic. Now he had to get three of them out, which meant leaving Lovegood and Thomson (if he was still alive). Severus winced. He had become as bad as Dumbledore, weighing up some lives before others. He cast a shield charm on Potter and Weasley. Now he just needed to—  
   
“And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.” ^ Severus heard from the drawing room.  
  
“No!”^ Weasley shouted in alarm behind Severus. Without a pause he ran straight past Severus and into the drawing room. Severus rolled his eyes and followed him, with Potter fast on his tail. Severus’ gaze was drawn to Granger, who was lying only a few feet from the escape hatch.  
  
Behind him Weasley had used the element of surprise to his advantage and disarmed Bellatrix. Severus watched Potter snatch her wand from the air and stun Lucius, who fell gracelessly over a footstool. He would _definitely_ replay that memory in the Pensieve later.

Severus was glad he’d cast the shield charm when Draco, Narcissa and Greyback sent hexes Potter’s way. Potter dove to the ground and rolled, the hex from Narcissa rebounding impotently off his back. Severus decided he could probably reach Potter and Granger if he ran. He sent a short, silent apology to Weasley who would be left behind.  
  
“Stop or she dies!”^  
  
Severus turned to see Bellatrix holding the limp form of Granger, pressing the knife hard against her throat. Severus recalibrated. Now in order to save Potter he would have to leave her as well. Would Potter be able to continue without the other two? Severus wasn’t sure, but he had no other choice. He tensed, readying himself.  
  
“Drop your wands. Drop them, or we’ll see exactly how filthy her blood is!” Bellatrix said threateningly.  
  
Weasley remained standing, wand in hand and Potter stood as well. It was brave of them, Severus  thought, completely pointless....but brave. That was Gryffindors for you though.  
  
“I said drop them!”  
  
Severus saw blood appear at Granger’s throat where Bellatrix was pressing the blade. He heard the wands clatter to the ground behind him. Severus took a step backward. One more step and he could grab Weasley and Potter and apparate. Bellatrix laughed.  
  
“Now. Cissy, I think I we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight.”^  
  
_Fuck it,_ swore Severus internally. He’d rather expose himself than leave Granger to Greyback. Decision made, he moved forward with purpose, however stopped suddenly when he heard a noise above him. He looked up at the dangling chandelier to see Lucius’ former (and extremely recalcitrant) house elf undoing the last bolt. As he watched, it suddenly dropped. Bellatrix shrieked and threw Granger to the side. Severus stumbled backwards in a panic, desperately casting a shield charm over the goblin and Granger before the chandelier shattered over them.  
  
Shards of crystal flew about the room. In the midst of it Severus saw Weasley rush forward and pull Granger from under the chandelier. Potter had wrenched wands from a cowering Draco and turned towards Greyback. Severus, with a great deal of satisfaction, added his stunning spell to the ones cast by Potter and Greyback was propelled across the room. All hell proceeded to break loose.  
  
Narcissa was screaming at her former house elf and Bellatrix was scrabbling at the floor for her knife. Meanwhile, across the room, Lucius and Greyback were both still comatose. Narcissa raised her wand but to her obvious surprise and horror the elf immediately disarmed her. Potter grabbed the wand and threw it to Weasley, who pulled Granger up, stepped back into Severus’ escape hatch and disapparated. Potter reached down, grabbed the arm of the goblin and the elf and also disapparated. They were gone. This solved practically all of Severus’ most pressing concerns. The only one left was to leave without being killed himself.  
  
Severus looked around the room. Narcissa was clutching Draco to herself, sobbing. Bellatrix had thrown her knife at Potter as he spun, and now she had sunk to her knees, moaning in a panic. She’d Summoned the Dark Lord and had nothing to show him but the ruins of a failed plan. They had Potter at the Manor and he’d escaped. Voldemort would be underwhelmed by this news. Not wanting to be there for the inevitable lengthy and undoubtedly agonising performance review, Severus slipped out the door. He rushed down the hall to the front steps where he launched himself skyward. When he passed the boundaries of the Manor he landed quickly before apparating back to Hogwarts where he was finally able to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Again, sorry for delay. I found this chapter a bit hard to write. I've been following canon reasonably faithfully for the most part - so I had to think how Snape could have fitted in to the Manor in a way that a) aligned with how I have characterised him and b) keeping events as they were reported in the text. I hope it suffices for you all - I know a few of you were looking forward to the Manor. 
> 
> Obviously I had a lot of fun with Hagrid's party. Bless him.


	26. The Come and Go Room

Well, Severus thought as toasted himself, another near death experience to add to the collection. He swallowed the rest of his celebratory _Support Potter_ Ogden’s in one gulp.

It had shocked him, the incident at the Manor. If he’d been exposed, he would have died without passing on the information Potter needed to know. If he and Potter came face to face, Severus was sure Potter wouldn’t wait patiently while Severus explained the complicated background to the current situation. Potter would go for his wand first and his brain second. No. Severus had given Potter the sword, which meant he had only one weapon left in his possession worth passing on, and that was to arm Potter with _knowledge_. 

Severus needed to motivate Potter towards acceptance of his death, which Severus knew was desperately hypocritical; when he dreaded his own inevitable end. But this was not a time to mire Potter in shades of grey, no, Potter would need to walk between clear black and white lines directly to Voldemort. Hence, Severus would not put forward anything to shatter Potter’s adoration of Dumbledore, but he would have to expose his own role as Dumbledore’s right hand. 

Severus decided not to show Potter endless scenes of his father’s schoolyard cruelty, or Black’s taunting. It was a waste of time, and would merely confuse and distract the boy—with one exception. The incident where Severus, in one blow, succeeded in achieving what years of pranks by the Marauders had failed to do; sever the tenuous and frayed friendship link that had remained between Lily and himself. Then, as a counterpoint, he could present to the boy what he had done in her name, and in the protection of her son.

Potter’s mind was completely defenceless, so gaining access to his mind to force the memories onto him would easy. The only potential issue would be the possibility of the Dark Lord using his connection to Potter’s mind to avail himself of the information. So, once he shared the memories, Severus would have to make himself rather scarce.

Dumbledore would probably prefer Severus stay around for whatever dramatic showdown would occur, and add his wand to the aid of the Light, as it were. If he was especially lucky he could take out Greyback, or Bella, or both simultaneously (finally a threesome he could get behind!). Although, even Severus had to acknowledge it was extremely unlikely he would make it very far into any battle with both sides trying to kill him.

“Severus?” The portrait spoke up behind him. Albus. He’d been ignoring the queries from the wizard since he’d returned from the Manor. He needed time to get his head together before he could talk.

“Potter is alive. He escaped,” Severus updated, and all around him he could hear the portraits sighing in various levels of relief. “Weasley was with him.”

“That....my boy....is very relieving to hear. I was worried. I’m not sure how you did it, but you have,” Albus said happily. “I—“

“What about the girl?” Phineas interrupted.

“Worried about the whereabouts of your portrait Phineas?” Severus asked wearily.

“Well yes I am, as a matter of fact. That is a very expensive frame, hundreds of years old I’ll have you know!”

“I’m sure it is fine,” sighed Severus.

“And the girl?” Phineas asked again.

“What do you care? Frightened her dirty blood is soaking into your priceless antique frame?” Severus snapped. Phineas looked briefly wounded, then immediately reverted back to injured haughtiness.

“We’ve been having a few...spirited debates recently; late at night when her compatriots are asleep.”

“I see,” Severus said. Of course Granger would take the portrait of a racist Headmaster she had sequestered out of its hiding spot to have an argument with him. Of _course_ she would.

“About pureblood culture,” Phineas sniffed. “We were just getting to a good part.”

“I’m afraid she spent quite a bit of intimate time with your great, great granddaughter,” Severus said.

“Oh.....Narcissa?” Phineas asked, somewhat hopefully.

“No,” Severus said.

“Ah,” Phineas sat back in his chair and templed his fingers.

“ _If_ she is alive, she’d be in very bad shape. I’ve not known anyone to be tortured by Bellatrix for that long and live,” Severus said truthfully.

“That would be a blow to Harry,” Albus said thoughtfully.

“I expect it would be quite a blow for a Granger too,” Severus retorted. He turned his head towards the portrait of Albus. “They seemed _quite_ interested in the sword. It was obvious Bellatrix had been told to protect it.”

“I expect she was,” Albus replied obtusely.

“Still not inclined to trust me with that information Dumbledore?”

“I’m sorry Severus. I trust you implicitly. But I must keep some pieces of information from you in case your shields are defeated by Tom,” Albus explained. Severus shrugged.

“I understand your reasoning Dumbledore. However, I think I could help Potter more if I knew what they were trying to do.”

Severus looked up at the painting again, but as always when he started on this particular argument, Albus had mysteriously left. Severus turned to Phineas, who opened his mouth to talk, but then shut it, listening intently before stepping backwards and out of his frame. Severus rubbed his temple. If he was forced to spend any more time with only loopy pictures to speak with he would probably go loopy himself. No, he corrected himself...he would go _more_ loopy. He sat back on the table, wondering where Phineas had gone. He had waited more than a few minutes when the old wizard returned.

“The girl is alive,” Phineas reported.

“That’s good,” Said Severus, feeling relieved.

“She’s very sick,” Phineas said slowly. “She called me back to my frame as she wanted to finish our debate, but she was shaking too much to talk and wasn’t making sense.”

“No blindfold then this time?” Severus asked interestedly. Phineas shook his head slowly.

“No. I got the impression she....forgot. I wasn’t sure what to do. I informed her that I’d heard a noise in this room and thought the Headmaster had returned. I indicated I’d come back if I was wrong.” The wizard looked ruffled.

“It’s the Cruciatus,” Severus explained. “It destroys the body, and Granger was under for so long. The curse starts to erode the myelin sheath protecting her nerves.”

The portrait looked confused. Severus sighed. Was he really the _only_ wizard that cared to know more about the human body then ‘Magic from hands go Boom’?

“Her brain can’t tell her body what to do. It’ll get worse.”

“I see.”

“I created a potion which reverses the main effects of the curse, and regenerates what the curse has damaged,” Said Severus. “If you are willing, I can teach you the recipe now. You can give it to Granger, and she should be able to brew the potion before the symptoms get worse and she is no longer able.”

Phineas looked conflicted.

“Tell her you saw me making it for myself and for the other Death Eaters. If she knows I used it on myself she will probably trust the recipe.”

Phineas frowned and Severus swallowed his rush of annoyance.

“Phineas,” Severus cajoled. “If she doesn’t take the potion in the next twelve hours she will die very slowly and very painfully. Do you want the _only_ person in Wizarding Britain who _voluntarily_ has conversations with you to drop dead?”

Phineas’ shoulders slumped.

“Tell her to conceal the potion from the others, it’ll raise too many questions. It uses very common ingredients....if she is somewhere where she can get her hands on some. But the technique is very important. She must follow it _exactly_ ,” Severus continued.

Phineas looked up. He had come to his decision. Severus hoped it was to be helpful.

“Yes Headmaster. Repeat the recipe three times and I shall instruct the girl,” Phineas said.

Severus almost sighed in relief but he stopped himself. Letting on that he very much wanted Phineas to do something often motivated the irascible old wizard to do the direct opposite. Thankfully, over a decade of experience dealing with contrary-minded teenagers had given Severus some skills in this department. So, instead he leant back against the desk and patiently began taking Phineas through the steps to create the potion.

After he had finished the third and final repetition of the recipe Phineas stepped backward out his frame. Severus waited for half an hour in his rapidly darkening office. He irritably waved a hand to light the sconces as he watched the empty frame. Finally Phineas returned. Severus raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The girl is going to attempt the potion,” Phineas said. “At first she wasn’t interested but I suggested it may have been too advanced for her in any case.” Severus nodded satisfactorily, it hadn’t taken long for a Phineas to get Granger’s number obviously.

“Very nicely done,” he congratulated the portrait, who smiled smugly.

Severus cast a _Tempus_ , and saw it was getting quite late. He decided that he should probably go to bed—he had a lot of lying around worrying about things beyond his control interspersed with horror-filled nightmares to get through before morning.

Once in his chambers and sprawled on his back on the enormous bed he turned his mind back to the memories he was sorting through for Potter. He would definitely have to pass on the discussion with Dumbledore about Potter’s death, and after some internal debate Severus decided to include the memory of where he cast his Patronus in front of the old wizard. _Always_ , he’d said at the time. He thought pessimistically of his likely premature death; it turned out always wasn’t going to be very long at all.

The next morning was off to a perfectly terrible start with an unexpected—and to be honest, unwelcome—visit from the Carrows and Minerva and Filius.

It turned out the purpose of the visit was to allow the Carrows to raise the issue about a number of missing students. Severus listened with a cold, blank expression on his face while his blood boiled underneath. So...Ginevra Weasley hadn’t returned after the break, Mister Longbottom was missing and Miss Chang had been gone from classes since three days ago. On one hand, he understood the need for children to want to avoid being actually tortured or having to torture their friends, but there was such a thing called _subterfuge_. Did they really think no one would notice if they just stopped coming to class? He blamed Minerva and Filius for this. They should have provided better guidance. He raised a hand to stop the rant from Alecto.

“Enough,” he turned his eyes to Minerva and Filius. “Are these students still attending your classes?”

They didn’t even look at each other, which meant they had come prepared.

“Yes,” they replied, almost in unison. Severus looked back at Alecto and Amycus.

“Are your classes not able to maintain a teenager’s interest?” Severus asked. Alecto frowned. Severus sat back in his chair.

“There is no issue. You are all dismissed,” he said abruptly, then waited for all the teachers to rise, Amycus’ face like a thundercloud before he spoke again. “Minerva, Filius....can you please inform Mister Longbottom and Miss Chang that I expect to see them them _tonight_ after dinner to serve detention with me. My expectation is that students attend _all_ their core classes.”

Minerva and Filius were not prepared for that, and shared a quick, worried glance. The Carrows looked suitably satisfied and left the room, smirking.

“Yes Headmaster.” Filius said, and Minerva merely gave him a tight nod. They’d never called Dumbledore ‘Headmaster’ all the time, Severus mused. This was something special he’d brought to the role. In fact, the last time any of the old staff had used his name had been when Filius and Sybil had stumbled across him attempting to bleed to death outside Hogwart’s gates.

Severus skipped dinner that night. He missed meals on occasion now, with no pattern to his missing meals, just to keep everyone wondering. He Disillusioned himself (seriously, this had to be his favourite spell) and set up right outside the Come and Go Room. He didn’t have to wait long until Colin Creevey walked furtively up to the unassuming wall. He fidgeted, looking around, before pacing backwards and forwards three times until the outline of a doorway solidified. He opened the door and entered, with Severus close behind him.

The room had been set up almost like a dorm room. There were a number of children in here, some asleep on the hammocks swinging about the room and there was a game of Exploding Snap happening in a corner.

“Where’s Neville?” Colin asked, “Professor McGonagall has a message for him.”

“Getting food,” shouted Miss Chang from across the room.

“I need to speak to you too Cho,” Colin said.

Severus looked up at the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff banners on the wall, rolling his invisible eyes at the missing Slytherin green and silver. If he was a betting man he’d bet they hadn’t even bothered to ask any of the Slytherin students whether they need a place of refuge. Might as well ostracise a whole group of potential future Death Eaters, after all, the Dark Lord would be looking to refresh the ranks soon. Severus hoped Mister Zabini and Miss Bulstrode we’re keeping the charges well in line. He could do without the extra stress of seeing his Slytherins follow in his own disastrous footsteps.

He looked up to the far wall, where it appeared a young girl was leading Mister Longbottom from the background of a portrait to the room. Well, _that_ was new.

“Thanks Ariana!” Said Mister Longbottom cheerfully as he climbed out of the frame, hauling a bag. From the shouts of excitement around the room, Severus assumed this was the food.

“What did Abe send us this time?” Cho called out,

“Got some nice pasties!” Mister Longbottom replied. “Plus this!” He pulled out what looked like two bottles of butterbeer.

“Er, are we celebrating?” Miss Chang asked, standing up and walking over to Mister Longbottom.

“Professor Lupin’s baby was born. They called him Edward...Teddy, after Tonk’s father,” Mister Longbottom said.

“Ohhh, that’s nice, and really sort of sad at the same time ,” Miss Chang commented, taking a bottle from Mister Longbottom’s hand.

“To Edward and Teddy.” Mister Longbottom toasted, and they clinked their bottles together.

Severus was reminded of the watch that was hidden in his chambers, in a small box, at the back of his closest, that was warded to an inch of its life. On the back of the watch was an engraving which read ‘ _I choose you, every time, always and forever. A’_.

“Er....Neville, Cho?” Colin interrupted hesitantly.

“What’s up Colin?”

“Professor McGonagall says you and Cho are supposed to have detention with Professor Snape this evening after dinner, and to come see her and Professor Flitwick first.”

“Oh no. A session with _him_? Apparently they are really bad, worse even than having the Carrows force one of your friends to curse you. He wouldn’t know where we are, would he?” Miss Chang asked nervously, butterbeer momentarily forgotten. Mister Longbottom grinned.

“Nope. I told the room to keep out the Carrows and their followers and of course Snape.” Mister Longbottom laughed.

Had no person in the entire Hogwarts alumni other than himself read _Hogwarts A History_ , Severus wondered in exasperation. If they had, Mister Longbottom would know that the Hogwart’s Headmaster could not be denied access to any parts of the castle. Well, a _legitimate_ Headmaster, Severus corrected, thinking of Umbridge desperately trying and failing to get past the gargoyle.

He’d probably seen enough for the moment. The students were safe, had a connection to Hogsmeade and obviously also had contact with the remaining members of the Order. This all seemed relatively positive. Potter had a range of supporters at his disposal should he so require and there was a handy back-entrance to Hogwarts he could always use. Now that he’d decided to leave, Severus wasn’t actually sure how to get out of the room, except for the most obvious option of simply waiting around until one of the inhabitants left. That was annoying, as he really wanted to leave right now.

As he thought that, the door behind him swung open. _Ah, excellent,_ thought Severus. He waited for the gap to be wide enough for him to slip out.

“Bloody Merlin, someone shut that door! Who opened it?” Severus heard Mister Longbottom shouting as he ducked through the open door and out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it odd that Hermiome went through such an extended torture session and then was expected to buck up within a few days and break into Gringotts. So...I figured she had some assistance in getting better. You might think Phineas gets a bit OOC here, I mean, would he care if a Hermione was dying? But I figured he got bored and was enjoying arguing with someone different, even if they were...of lower blood status. 
> 
> Also, there is NO WAY Neville and co. hid out in Hogwarts and Snape didn’t know what was going on. Oh he knew. ;)
> 
> Apologies if they are errors, seriously AO3 is currently hating on doing uploads from devices which is all I have at hand atm!
> 
> Post chapter addition:
> 
> Ok, so I messed up. Cho was in the year ABOVE Harry so shouldn’t have been in the school at all! Aghhhh. I’ve annoyed myself thoroughly by not checking that. Perhaps I’ll change her to another character.


	27. The Death Stick

Severus had reluctantly ramped up his Cruciatus memory for Mister Longbottom and Miss Cho. Firstly, it would be expected by both them and their Order contacts, secondly the Carrows would go running directly to the Dark Lord’s petticoats if they suspected he hadn’t gone hard on the two students, and thirdly it would be good motivation for them. He kicked them out of the room after he’d finished implanting the memory; both of them obviously affected by what they thought had occurred, by what they _remembered_ him doing. Severus watched them go back to their respective common rooms....or the Come and Go Room....what did it matter?

He sat at his desk and looked up at Albus.

“The Dark Lord is coming to Hogwarts.”

“You call him that name more these days than you ever have previously,” Albus observed.

“You call him _Tom_ ,” retorted Severus.

“Yes. To remind myself he is, after all, just a man,” said Albus.

Severus rubbed his face wearily.

“Maybe I need to remind myself he was _more_ than that to me...and others,” Severus explained slowly. “It’s dangerous to underestimate him.”

“You are probably right,” said Albus. “Do you know why he is coming to the school?”

“No,” said Severus, “he declined to say.”

“Hm,” Albus was noncommittal. Severus looked up to the portrait.

“You know, don’t you?”

“Only a suspicion,” confessed Albus.

Severus didn’t bother trying to get Dumbledore to extrapolate as he had been directed to meet Voldemort at the gates.

Voldemort arrived not long after Severus made his way down.

“My Lord, I have made sure the wards will permit your entry. You do not need my escort,” said Severus. Voldemort smiled thinly.

“Thank you Severus. But this is more.... _polite_...this way is it not?”

Severus smiled in return. He stood back as Voldemort swept past him into the grounds and towards the Black Lake. Severus hurried his steps to catch up.

Voldemort halted briefly to allow Severus time to make it to his side, and he turned briefly to look towards the castle.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Voldemort commented.

“Yes my Lord,” agreed Severus, who was actually currently having quite a distinctly _un_ beautiful time of it in Hogwarts.

“I felt I’d found my home there,” Voldemort continued, sounding like the man he’d been decades before. Severus looked at him curiously.

“Yes. I......felt the same my Lord,” he said truthfully. Voldemort glanced back at Severus.

“They took our home from us,” 

Severus looked back at the castle. He thought about his time there, about Potter, Black and the rest. He remembered the shack, and the shrinking, shrieking terror sparking inside him as he was pulled away from a transformed Lupin.

“Yes,” he said. It felt strange telling the truth to the Dark Lord, but he was, as Dumbledore had reflected upon, just a man after all. At that point he certainly was in Severus’ eyes, perhaps more than he’d been in quite a while. 

“We have taken it back,” Voldemort said coldly, sounding very reptilian once more. And just like that he was a monster again.

“We have my Lord,” Severus repeated numbly. He walked silently alongside the black figure for a few moments.

“Severus,” Voldemort paused, so Severus did too.

“I shall join you in the castle shortly. Leave me now.”^

Severus bowed and turned to walk back up the path towards the castle. He walked on until the curve of the path and a clump of bushes hid him from Voldemort’s view. He immediately Disillusioned himself and began retracing his steps. As he neared Voldemort the wizard cast his own Disillusionment Charm, however the wards around the castle provided Severus with a vague sense of where he remained. Severus followed from a distance as they neared Dumbledore’s tomb.

Severus watched as the marble entrance split and fall away to reveal Dumbledore himself, lying white and still in the faint light from the moon. Severus saw Dumbledore’s thin wand plucked from the hands of its master, and sparks cascaded from its tip. Severus shook his head in confusion. _The Dark Lord wanted Dumbledore’s wand?_ He retreated back up the path until he reached the entrance to the castle, and he stood there waiting for the Dark Lord.

They walked to the Headmaster’s office together. Past Argus Filch, who shrank down over Mrs Norris in a protective crouch. Past the Carrows, whose sycophantic bows were bordering on performance art. Past the grey tabby that narrowed her yellow eyes as Severus swept along, robes billowing behind him and the Dark Lord gliding ethereally beside him.

Finally, the Dark Lord stood in front of the wall of portraits, Severus lingered behind him, every nerve aflame.

“My Lord, I have forbidden the portraits to speak,” Severus said. He hadn’t expected the Dark Lord would want to be taken to the office so he had not prepared the former Headmasters for the eventuality. He wasn’t quite sure whether the glint in Phineas’ eyes was anger, excitement or _Merlin forbid,_ admiration. He silently willed them with every nerve in his body to just _shut up_ for once.

“No matter,” Voldemort shrugged. He looked up at Dumbledore.

“You sought to destroy me Dumbledore, yet here I stand...more powerful than ever. I have taken almost everything from you. And soon I will kill Harry and I will then have destroyed _everything_.”

The portrait stared at Voldemort, a pair half-moon glasses perched across the bridge of his nose and a troubled expression on his face. Voldemort smiled a ghastly triumphant smile, he turned to Severus.

“Do you have any specific requirements for me at Hogwarts to aid you my Lord?” Severus asked.

“Not at this time Severus.“

“Do you need assistance at the Manor?”

At the mention of the Manor, Voldemort’s face clouded with anger. He hissed in annoyance.

“Incompetent fools. Harry Potter was almost within my grasp and those moronic imbeciles let him get away.”

“How very disappointing,” murmured Severus. He knew that everyone involved with the escape, excepting himself, had been penalised significantly and was currently confined to the Manor as punishment. He couldn’t help the warm, satisfied feeling that gave him. He could just picture Lucius almost fainting if Greyback tried to sit on the pristine, white couch upon which Narcissa had made Severus cast what felt like one hundred protective and dirt charms when they’d first bought it. It was made from some poor, almost extinct animal, although Severus couldn’t remember which one.

“I can’t help but think if you had been there things would have gone quite differently,” the Dark Lord commented, looking at Severus pensively.

“Thank you, my Lord,” said Severus. “Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than bringing Potter to you.”

“I wonder why they did not call on your assistance?” Voldemort continued thoughtfully. _Oh shitters_....Severus thought. His preference was very much _not_ to have his actions analysed in any depth. Particularly if that analysis lead them to a new and troubling conclusion.

“My Lord, despite my efforts I have yet to earn the trust of Bellatrix,” Severus explained. It was the truth after all. As a matter of fact, all this truth was making him nauseated. Perhaps his body could only handle a small amount of truth at a time before he began to suffer ill effects. He should immediately look to reduce his exposure.

“Ah yes, Bellatrix is not an ardent admirer of yours,” Voldemort laughed and Severus shrugged.

“No, she is not.”

“It was their overzealous and erroneous belief in their abilities that was the first problem. Not seeking the assistance of my most trustworthy follower was their second.” Voldemort commented drily and Severus huffed.

“Your faith in my abilities is humbling, my Lord. I only wish I had been there. If there is anything I can do to locate Potter I am, as always, your servant.”

“Yes. So you say,” said Voldemort. He looked at Severus steadily. Severus stayed perfectly still. Like any vulnerable creature, he had adapted to maximise his chance of survival. By far the most effective technique he’d discovered was to avoid attracting Voldemort’s attention by minimising his presence as much as possible.

“Take me to the tower,” Voldemort demanded finally, and Severus nodded curtly.

He and Voldemort made their way to the Astronomy tower, and when they arrived Voldemort walked over to where Albus had stood and pleaded with Severus. The Dark Lord put out a thin, pale hand to lightly touch the stones Albus had leant against.

“Show me.” Voldemort demanded and Severus turned to him and pushed the memory to his forefront. He felt Voldemort in his head; a horrible, sharp and decidedly _unwelcome_ feeling. The Dark Lord’s presence circled the memory, savouring it, viewing it again and sifting it back and forth. He felt a pause at the moment when Albus was forced back with the power of the curse, falling over the battlements.

“I have not seen a wizard besides myself cast the Killing Curse that strongly,” Voldemort observed. His red gaze moved searchingly across Severus’ features.

“I wanted to kill him,” Severus replied simply.

“You are powerful Severus,” Voldemort said softly, “and the old man thought you his pet.”

“A mistake, my Lord,” answered Severus.

“Yes,” agreed Voldemort. “It is not wise to forget your power...or your skills in _duplicity_.” His eyes were locked on Severus, whose self-preservation instinct was ordering an immediate abandon ship.

“I serve one master, my Lord,” Severus said, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

Apparently satisfied, Voldemort nodded. He spread his arms, and lifted off the flagstones like a dementor. Severus stood watching as he fell away from the tower before swooping up again dramatically and away into the darkness. Severus stayed there until he couldn’t see Voldemort anymore, then trudged slowly back to his office.

He entered the office and leant against the desk, facing the portraits.

“Was there something wrong with his face?” Armando asked. Severus grimaced.

It was genuinely agreed upon at large by most historians that Armando had been a fairly decent human being and an excellent headmaster. However, Severus discovered that Armando had also been a little....vain. He’d decided to have his portrait painted without the spectacles he customly wore. This wouldn’t have been an issue had the actual Armando _not_ complained at length to the portrait about being practically blind without his glasses. This oversight meant the creation of magical portrait who spent a large portion of time squinting and complaining he couldn’t see anything, and the rest of the time pretending he _could_ see and making a right hash of it. Severus ignored him.

“Dumbledore, the Dark Lord took your wand.”

“Yes, I expected he would,” sighed Albus.

“Is there any reason he would want it?” Severus asked. Albus frowned slightly.

“Tom believes that my power and the power Harry has...is linked to our wands. He believes with the right wand he can defeat Harry.”

Severus looked at the portrait steadily. He wasn’t an idiot. Even though people sometimes acted like he was. There was something else going on but he knew it was pointless to try and get it out of Albus.

Severus rubbed his eyes. He was tired. Tired of second guessing, of reading between the lines and above all Severus was tired of the constant scramble to stay just that one step ahead of Voldemort, Potter, Minerva, Bellatrix, Lucius.....Albus.....everyone. He wished, not for the first time, that it was over. But his mind faltered to conceptualise exactly what over meant. Would the death of the Dark Lord really mean an end to prejudice in the wizarding community? But wasn’t that what everyone thought when Grindelwald fell? Severus dropped his head into his hands.

Perhaps outside his door, somewhere in the castle, sleeping peacefully in their bed was the next protagonist. And in a decades or so it would start all over again. Well that was fucking depressing, thought Severus. He hoped, a little vindictively, it was a Hufflepuff the next time. That would be a bug in the eye of everyone.

Perhaps, Severus mused, muggleborns would finally get sick of the whole second-class citizen baloney and stage their own revolution.....overthrow the pureblood bourgeoisie. They just needed a power-hungry charismatic leader—or even someone who was angry enough. Or, Severus was warming to the topic now, someone willing to breach the Statue of Secrecy. His mind flittered to Basila and her gun. She’d killed a powerful assailant. What if the muggleborn joined forces with muggles and created their own army? How long could pureblood hold out against conventional, or even unconventional weaponry. He imagined, with a slight grin only his palms could see, a tank driving through the gates of Malfoy Manor and Lucius desperately trying to save his collection of ceramic peacocks.

“Severus?” Albus was saying gently.

He realised he’d been leaning against the desk, head in his hands for quite some time. His right foot was asleep.

“I’m sorry Dumbledore,” Severus said. “What did you need?”

“Now that Tom has my wand,” Albus began, “he will seek Harry even more fervently.”

Severus shrugged and nodded a sharp agreement.

“Harry must know everything he needs,” Albus said tightly.

“Yes,” Severus snapped back. “I have devised a way in which I will attempt to convince a teenage boy to sacrifice himself _for the greater good_ ,” he sneered.

“You weren’t much older when you offered to do the same,” Albus observed. Severus turned away angrily. As if he needed the reminder.

His younger self had made a host of disappointing life decisions that his older self was still paying for. If he had a time turner with enough power and reach he wouldn’t mind taking a little trip back and punching his younger self right on their prominent nose.

“I have told you that I will pass on the information to Potter. What he does with it is his own decision,” Severus said. “What I need, However, is an opportunity. One that doesn’t involve Potter and his friends trying to hex me in the face before I can blink or me having to stop them dying instantly and horribly after they’ve stumbled into another clusterfuck of their own making!” He realised he was shouting.

“Do you know their location Phineas?” Dilys asked calmly, interrupting his rant. Severus groaned, now the other portraits were in on it too? Excellent. Just....excellent.

“Their current location is Secret Kept,” said Phineas self-importantly. “But the girl was showing me the Polyjuice Potion she’d made. There was really only a splash left, but she wanted to talk about the modified technique she’d used.”

Severus knew exactly which technique she’d used. _His_ technique. The one Potter had _stolen_. No wonder Granger had tried so hard to—he let out a bark of laughter as his mind flashed to the memory of the girl and her cat ears.

So...they were planning something else with the Polyjuice, but probably only had enough left for one person. Severus tapped on finger on his upper lip thoughtfully. He would have spend some time ruminating on this. No time like the present, he huffed. After seeing Voldemort being escorted through the castle by the Headmaster, Severus doubted anyone would be in the halls tonight. He had time to think. And to figure out where they would be headed next, before Voldemort did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me. The last few chapters have been slow to post and I apologise for that, I’ve been travelling for work so haven’t had time.
> 
> I really, sincerely appreciate you all for reading and commenting. It certainly helps to know at least someone is out there reading!
> 
> I needed to cover the wand before we covered Gringotts, I hope you all aren’t too disappointed!


	28. May Day

Severus sat in his old armchair, pondering on what he had seen in the pensieve. He’d decided to go back and watch the events at the Manor again. It didn’t improve with increased familiarity. In fact, it was just as bad as the original viewing. But it had allowed him to concentrate far more on what Bellatrix had said, and what clues were hidden inside her demented screaming.  
  
_You have been inside my vault at Gringotts!....What else did you take? What else have you got?...What else did you take, what else?...._  
  
The sword, as far as Bellatrix believe, was in her vault. But it was obvious something else was as well. Something that the potential loss of which terrified her more than anything Severus had seen before. It _must_ be something that had been entrusted to her by Voldemort, Severus pondered idly. Something valuable. He blinked as a thought put its hand up tentatively in his head, offering an answer. No. Would the Dark Lord have really given something like that to Bellatrix? _The horcrux._ But wait..Severus frowned slightly. Hadn’t Potter and Weasley destroyed the horcrux? Yes, he was sure they had. That time when it decided to transform the night into an erotic forest romp.  
  
Unless....unless there was _more_ than one. How many could there be? Severus had read everything he could get his hands on, even the tomes in Lucius’ library that were bound in a disturbingly supple leather that felt very wrong to the touch. And everything he read had said no one had ever successfully made more than one horcrux.  
  
He wondered uneasily on what Potter had been chasing on Albus’ orders. Then at the end of it all the boy would have to sacrifice himse—. This thought was interrupted as another thought barrelled it’s way past into the forefront of Severus’ mind, not bothering to wait to be acknowledged.  
  
_...A fragment of Voldemort’s soul....latched itself....lives inside Harry...._  
  
Fuck.  
  
Potter was a horcrux.  
  
Severus yanked at his hair in futile rage. What could he do? How pointless it all was—the Occulamency lessons, protection from Quirrell, from Umbridge...all of it a pointless waste of time. Severus felt despair settle over him like a thick, blank fog. He slumped down, finally defeated. He was drained of even the smallest sliver of motivation. He could not continue. There was no light at the end of the endless tunnel that he’d been doggedly slugging ahead through the past decade. There was nothing.  
  
His mind skipped to Moody....even that fucking twat Black...they’d _died_ for Potter. Because he was _The Boy Who Lived_. Wasn’t he? Potter was The One who could take down Voldemort....who by the way appeared to have more lives than a bloody cat. Severus immediately backtracked on that thought, as the horrible pinpricking of suspicion that Voldemort probably _did_ have as many lives crept in. Could there be nine horcruxes out there? Ten? If the general rule was you needed to murder someone to make one, then he could potentially have hundreds. _Hundreds_.  
  
Severus wondered if Bellatrix had worked out what was in her vault. She wasn’t stupid, not in the slightest. None of the Blacks were, even—he loathed to admit—the Black sheep...er...dog..or whatever it was Black used to turn himself into. Black had made stupid decisions, perhaps none more so than the one that led to his death. But the thoughtlessly reckless version of Black that had holed up in Grimmauld Place could partially be blamed on Azkaban. The short time Severus had spent there had been indescribably horrific, so the fact that Black had retained any sanity at all was a testament to either his strength of will, or just sheer bloody mindedness.  
  
There was Regulus to consider as well. Very bright. At one stage he was one of the golden children within Riddle’s inner circle. Rich, handsome, powerful and pureblood—ticking all the right boxes on the Death Eater desired attribute list for recruitment. Regulus, Lucius, even Riddle himself—this was how the rest liked to view themselves. Regulus was long gone of course....just up and vanished one day. No tracing or tracking spells or potions were able to locate him. A year later Lily was dead, Voldemort had fallen, Regulus’ brother was in Azkaban and Severus was working at a Hogwarts under Albus in some type of self-imposed indentured servitude.  
  
Severus got up and walked to his dresser. He unwarded and opened the second bottom drawer, taking out a number of the items and placing them on top of the dresser: the foul-mouthed lion, the wooly hat, the dirty book and the unfinished chess game held in stasis. He stared at them for a while before adding the page with Charity’s haiku, and the precious torn photograph and letter fragment he took from Twelve Grimmauld Place. Finally, he gingerly placed the shrunken student file of Basila Crossley and the sturdy wristwatch to the side of the other objects.  
  
He sat there, looking at the pile of mismatched oddities. They were there, he thought, if he really _was_ seeking out reasons to stay on his path, no matter how futile it seemed to him now. Here they were. A whole pile of broken lives and lost potential. His mouth set in a grim line. Well. That was that then. He carefully replaced his treasures in the drawer, lastly placing the letter and photograph gently on top so they wouldn’t crease. He looked at Lily's laughing face. He shut the drawer and rewarded it.  
  
Something was in Bellatrix and Rodolphus’ vault. Something that, in all probability held a sliver of Voldemort’s soul...and apparent immortality. Perhaps he could get it. Perhaps he could destroy it. The idea was laughable. Gringott’s was harder to get into than Azkaban...there were no guards to bribe....no guards that _could_ be bribed. Goblins generally loathed wizards. They wouldn’t hesitate to act against even the slightest hint of impropriety. The other option was trying to fool Bellatrix or Rodolphus to get it _out_ of the vault. Even tricker. Severus pondered this idea before dismissing it. In the memory it had been obvious how frightened Bellatrix had been. He couldn’t imagine being successful in any attempt to manipulate her regarding the contents of their vault. There were no immediately obvious solutions Severus thought, as he absentmindedly acknowledged the Summons that was blistering in his arm as he tried to tease out a possible solution.  
  
He arrived at the Manor where a very depressed looking Narcissa greeted him. She, like the others, had been forbidden from leaving the Manor. Draco had been allowed to return to Hogwarts, only through some incredibly delicate manoeuvring by Severus. This had proven to be a huge headache for him, as his request had come at the cost of a brutal Legilimency session at the hands of the Dark Lord. Severus had buried some things down so deep it had left a hollow, unsettlingly _physical_ ache....and certainly the worst rebound headache he had ever experienced. His standard potions hadn’t touched it. He resorted to standing in the shower and letting the hot water pound against his temples. It eased it slightly and also made his hair fluff alarmingly.  
  
Voldemort was in the formal dining room, sitting at the table with Minister Thicknesse, Yaxley, and three unfamiliar wizards. Severus entered the room and acknowledged them all with a curt nod.  
  
“Severus,” Voldemort began, “I have been discussing my security concern with Minister Thicknesse.”  
  
“Of course my Lord,” said Severus, reverting to his standard ' _I have zero idea what is going on here but wish to remain alive for the time being'_ response.  
  
He watched Thicknesse turn to Voldemort.  
  
“We have equipped guards at all Ministry and related establishments armed with Probity Probes. We’ve also reached an agreement with Gringotts regarding the same security measures. I hope this goes some way to indicating our efforts to protect critical infrastructure against Undesirable,” the Minister said firmly.  
  
He sounded as if he believed what he said. It was a particularly impressive application of the Imperius curse by Yaxley, although the effort of maintaining it surely would be draining. Severus glanced at Yaxley, who looked a bewildering combination of both smug and grim, but not tired.  
  
“Excellent,” stated Voldemort, and he turned to Severus.  
  
“Severus, I have some concerns about the staff in your employ,” the Dark Lord began.  
  
“My Lord?” Severus asked.  
  
“After all, some were your _loyal_ friends in the Order were they not?” Voldemort asked slyly and Yaxley smirked to the side.  
  
“So they thought at the time,” Severus agreed, shrugging slightly.  
  
He didn’t like this line of questioning at all, as he felt very much it was leading to a direction that ended up with someone getting killed. He didn’t really want to have to try and kill Minerva, and he _definitely_ didn’t want to die spectacularly in the attempt.  
  
“Yes. True. So they thought at the time,” Voldemort echoed, staring at Severus piercingly.  
  
“Do you wish me to perhaps... _retire_ a particular staff member?” Severus offered. To his immense hidden relief Voldemort merely laughed.  
  
“No. Not as yet. I wish you to hold the staff to a curfew within the school. They are forbidden from leaving the school grounds. You are monitoring the owls I assume?”  
  
“Yes,” confirmed Severus.  
  
He _had_ been monitoring the owls, but had been thuglishly blatant about threatening this action in an early staff meeting so everyone had known it. Thus, none of them appeared to be using owls for any insurgency related communication. They did send regular owls, but they were all filled with what they obviously thought was deviously clever ways of exhaustively describing his apparently endless personal faults.  
  
Hooch, as an example, recently wrote to her sister about an oversized bat that had taken up residence in the castle, and complained how the staff were struggling to deal with the pest. Sprout’s missive to a colleague in Canada bemoaned a blight effecting her fanged geraniums which had rendering their fangs crooked and yellow and she’d resorted to poisoning them all. Minerva, on the other hand, had written a lengthy diatribe to a friend about some greasy, black curtains that were putrefying up her favourite room in the castle, and how much she loathed them and wanted them gone. It was familiar, if depressing reading. And deep down he wondered, was that how they’d seen him all this time? Perhaps they all used to make fun of him behind his back in staff meetings, and even during those nights in Hogsmeade. Probably. He routinely burnt all the letters in his fireplace.  
  
“I want to know if you even hear a _hint_ of one of them mentioning Diagon Alley, or Gringotts.”  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” Severus said. He stood there somewhat awkwardly for a while and everyone stared at him until Voldemort waved a hand impatiently.  
  
“You are dismissed Severus,”  
  
Severus walked out of the room towards the front door, his mind racing. They thought the sword was still in the vault, and something else as well....but now security was tightened....the problem had grown. It was impossible, he had to let the idea go for now.  
  
“Severus,” Narcissa called softly and he turned to her. She motioned to a side door and he followed her.  
  
Lucius was reclined on an exquisite daybed, head nestled on an exquisite peridot blue pillow and bleeding an exquisite garnet red from his chest. Some blood replenishing potions were on a table next to him, as were empty vials.  
  
“I cannot close the wound,” explained Narcissa worriedly. Severus leant over and examined the gash.  
  
“It is a curse I’m not familiar with,” she explained. He nodded.  
  
“I have modified Vulnera Sanentur somewhat,” Severus suggested, “and I have found it broadly useful to some of the more resilient _accidents_ I have had at the Manor. It will likely suffice is this situation.”  
  
Narcissa looked at him sharply, but nodded. Severus leant over Lucius and began the incarnation. After he repeated it the third and final time it was obvious the wound had knit as there was no more blood dribbling through Lucius’ shirt. He examined his work closely then stood upright.  
  
“It’ll scar for sure. You should probably look to trade up your husband if you don’t like blemished skin,” Severus commented drily to Narcissa.  
  
“Get out of my mansion you cretin,” slurred Lucius and Narcissa smiled. A grumpy Lucius was an alive Lucius. Lucius smiled back at Narcissa, although he was shaking slightly. Her smile faltered, and Severus observed that her own hand shook minutely as she reached up to smooth her hair back.  
  
“Do you have anything for Cruciatus tremors?” Narcissa asked Severus. He turned to her; about to tell her of the potion he’d invented.  
  
“Where is my beautiful hand-woven carpet?” Lucius demanded petulantly as he sat up and looked at the bare floor.  
  
“I moved it into the drawing room.” Narcissa snapped. “I had to destroy the one from there because Potter’s dirty mudblood’s _filth_ was all over it.”  
  
Lucius sighed. “Oh, shame. I liked that one.”  
  
“Severus?” Narcissa asked, with a flat, blue stare. He remembered Granger screaming in agony, back arched and clawing hands.... but still protecting Potter’s secrets. His mind clapped his mouth shut on the unspoken offer.  
  
“I’m sorry Narcissa, there is nothing that can help,” Severus answered. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.  
  
She sighed. He left her disappointed, but he hadn’t wanted to give them the potion after....well. In any case, it was always better to keep a few things to yourself. There _was_ power in secrets after all. He’d learnt that from Albus.  
  
He returned to Hogwarts in time to call in the staff to inform them of the new policy restricting their travel. Minerva’s lips were pursed so thinly he wouldn’t have been surprised if her whole mouth had imploded. He assumed the horrid, lank curtains she abhorred would have a few more pages dedicated to them to after tonight.  
  
As he prepared for bed that evening he looked out over the grounds. It was May Day tomorrow. For as long as he could remember Hagrid had built an enormous bonfire every year to celebrate the event, and all the staff would gather there after the students had been sent to their dormitories. Everyone would eat, get outrageously drunk and insist to each other it was alright as they were paying homage to some mystical pagan spring ritual. Sinistra would always wear a crown of flowers in her hair, bare feet regardless of inclement weather and a long, white robe...and every year she’d fall into a pile of ash then complain about it at length to anyone in earshot. Except the one year she hadn’t, and had been very smug about it until Minerva and Severus had sent a little combined trip jinx her way.  
  
Severus looked out across the grounds at the cold and dark groundskeepers hut in the distance. There would be no bonfire this year. No new beginnings to celebrate. No pissed off earth goddess Sinestra complaining about her ruined gown and how nobody took Earth magic _seriously_ anymore.  
  
The next morning things seemed brighter to Severus. He thought he’d take advantage of his curfew-captured staff and make a quick dash to Diagon Alley. He needed some potion ingredients that required an expert eye to pick the most virulent. He’d tried owl order once and never again, as the quality had been abysmal. From what he had heard, Diagon Alley was almost deserted these days, so he didn’t think he would need worry too much about crowds, but he cast a Notice-me-not charm just to be on the safe side.  
  
After a successful shopping expedition he was having a quick internal debate with himself as to whether he could grab a pint with the charm still intact or whether it would amount to stealing when he saw Travers ahead. Severus watched the wizard spin on his heel and stride off through a small crowd towards someone Severus could not see.  
  
“Why, Madame Lestrange!” Severus heard Travers call. _Wait.....what?_  
  
Severus moved quietly behind him to the edge of the group of bedraggled onlookers and peered over the top of their heads to see Travers in conversation with Bellatrix. Bellatrix wearing robes that looked like they hadn’t seen the light of day in years and her eyes looked wilder than usual. Severus was completely bewildered to see her in Diagon Alley. Next to her was a taller man, with long wavy red hair and a lustrous brown beard. He was slouching somewhat as he held out a hand to Travers who looked at it in distaste. The red headed wizard looked familiar, Severus thought. He watched Bellatrix, the wizard and Travers walk away together. He hung back, but followed discreetly. How was Bellatrix out of the Manor? Then thankfully his brain decided it was high time to get involved in the current situation and offered up its hypothesis on the puzzling situation.  
  
_Gringotts._  
  
_Enough Polyjuice for one person_ , Phineas had said.  
  
Severus looked at the three figures climbing the steps of Gringotts. Now it was embarrassingly obvious to him who was under the copious hair...Weasley. And Granger must be Bellatrix. He assumed Potter was slinking behind them under his ubiquitous cloak. _Shit_. He saw the guards step forward, raising their Probity Probes. _Double shit_.  
  
He watched as Bellatrix/Granger spun to face one of the guards and snapped at him angrily. The haughty facial expression was perfect. Granger had nailed the arrogant snarl, but then again, she had seen it up close. Obviously satisfied, the guards withdrew and lowered their golden rods. The three walked on into the building.  
  
They were going for the object in the Lestrange vault. It was tantamount to suicide. But since, in Granger’s case especially, merely existing appeared to be an affronted to every wizard and his wand these days..then what did it matter? Just like him, they were doing what needed to be done anyway. Regardless of the risk.  
  
Unlike the Manor, this time however, Severus couldn’t help them. He wouldn’t be able make it past the goblins inside. The only thing he could buy them was time and perhaps some modicum of help—paltry as it would likely be. He would go to the Manor. He would attempt to delay any exodus of Death Eaters once the break-in was common knowledge. There was always the possibility he would be able to tag along once the alarm was raised in the vault, and provide some type of protection to the trio when the inevitable battle began. With a final glance towards the Gringotts entrance he apparated, aiming to land just outside the Manor gates.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fair bit of monologue in this chapter - but I think a bit less of that next one. Thanks for your patience. :)
> 
> So - a few things I want to just touch on that are in here.  
> * I think Snape is smart enough to work out that Harry was a horcrux once he figured out that was what they were hunting for. That one Dumbledore basically gave him on a plate.
> 
> * Narcissa and Lucius. They are fun to write - but both their attitudes to muggleborn are clear and consistent in canon. And I wanted the same in this story. As a counterpoint to the current thoughts and actions of Snape.
> 
> * The bonfire stuff - I just loved idea of Sinestra wafting around trying to be seriously pagan and wild and everyone else getting blotto and eating too much.


	29. Gringott's withdrawal

As Severus walked through the gates of the Manor he could see the pale head of Draco ahead of him in the garden proper, slouching against a statue. He neared the young man and decided to announce his presence to the teenager. Sneaking up anyone at the Manor was a dangerous pastime that had the potential to turn fatal reasonably quickly.  
  
“Draco, I am surprised you are here,” Severus said in what he hoped sounded like a neutral tone. “There is a curfew on a Hogwarts,” he added unnecessarily, as they both knew the curfew didn’t really apply to Draco. And certainly would not protect him from a Summons.  
  
“I was—called home,” Draco said haltingly. The moonlight on the statue cast odd shadows across his hair and robes.  
  
Severus moved forward and was then close enough to realise that they weren’t shadows at all, but dried blood.  
  
“I see,” Severus said helplessly. _Oh Draco._  
  
“It was time for me to step up,” Draco explained. He looked up at Severus and his face was blank. Occlumency, Severus guessed.  
  
“Yes,” said Severus. He felt very sad all of a sudden.  
  
“I think father was proud of me,” Draco told him expressionlessly. Severus thought that may be the case, but Draco didn’t currently appear to be very proud of himself. He seemed shrunken into his body. A smaller, faded version of the brash, arrogant boy he’d been only a year before.  
  
“I have no doubt,” Severus said as gently as he could.  
  
Draco looked past Severus’ left shoulder at something and Severus was consumed with doubt. There was a slim possibility of helping Potter, maybe, if a chance arose. But there was another child right here in front of him that was also on the edge of something terrible, and Severus knew it wouldn’t take much more for Draco to be irrevocably lost. He possibly already was. But wasn’t Draco’s soul the reason Severus himself took on the burden of Albus’ death? He looked back at the boy, teetering towards being a man and obviously being groomed to be exactly the type of man his father was. Severus made his decision. Potter was on his own for the time being.  
  
“Draco. Come. I will escort you back to Hogwarts,” Severus said, placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder and steering him towards the gates. He cast a non-verbal cleaning charm as they walked. Draco offered no resistance.  
  
“I need to tell father I am leaving,” Draco said, but he allowed Severus to propel him forward.  
  
“There is no need, I shall return and inform them of your location,” Severus promised. Once past the gates he side-apparated them both back to the Hogwarts gates. He couldn’t use the Headmaster’s apparition point while escorting Draco.  
  
It was a long walk to the castle. They walked silently along the path and around the black lake, its surface mirror smooth. He led a almost-unresponsive Draco through the school and down towards the Slytherin Common Room. They arrived at the stone wall and Severus squeezed Draco’s shoulder to prompt him for the password.  
  
“Survival,” Draco muttered, and the wall opened to reveal the passage. Draco walked into the previously hidden corridor without looking back at the man behind him. The wall closed behind him. Severus sighed.  
  
Severus dashed back up the stairs towards the Headmaster’s office and the apparation point. He had to make it back to the Manor to try and salvage any chance of providing Potter with any assistance whatsoever. He was inwardly cursing how long it had taken him to bring Draco back to the castle. He was probably already too late. How long did it take someone to get murdered by goblins within Gringotts anyway?  
  
Severus was sweating in his robes by the time he was in front of the Manor again. He strode through the garden and up the steps to the grand entrance. Once inside, Severus looked around, but was confused momentarily to find the rooms deserted. He started make his way down the hallway, but as he walked a hand reached out and snagged his sleeve. He looked to his side to see a desperate looking Narcissa clutching the wool.  
  
“Severus. You must leave. There has been a break-in at Gringotts. The Dark Lord...” she hissed at him.  
  
“At Gringotts? What has happened?” Severus asked, feigning ignorance.  
  
“They are all in the back room. He is very angry. Please—leave—please look after Draco. If something happens to us, promise me you will,” Narcissa’s fingers were digging in to his arm.  
  
Severus’ heart was racing. If the Dark Lord was angry, then Potter and the others _must_ have succeeded. He could hardly believe it. They must be swigging liquid luck by the gallon to be successfully pulling off their increasingly ludicrous plans. He looked down at Narcissa and at her tight, anxious face.  
  
“Yes, I will. Of course,” Severus promised. It was a hollow pledge, and he doubted he would be alive to fulfil it. But he wanted to convince her to release her grasp on him.  
  
“Yes...yes. Thank you,” Narcissa whispered in relief. They heard a terrible voice from the room at the end of the hall. Voldemort. Inhuman with barely concealed rage.  
  
“And they took?” Severus heard the Dark Lord demand to an unknown audience. “Tell me! What did they take?”^  
  
Severus did not hear the response, but he did hear the anguished, furious bellow of fury that followed. Narcissa turned to look at him with a terrified expression, and pushed him back, back, back towards the entrance.  
  
“Go.....go!” She insisted, anguish clear in her voice.  
  
Severus turned and ran for the door. Behind him he heard screaming. Severus had heard enough of that particular type to recognise them immediately. They were screams of death and of the dying. He had made it out the door, adrenalin fuelling his speed when he heard Narcissa herself screaming, for her husband and sister. Without waiting to see if he could be observed from within the Manor Severus launched himself upwards to escape.  
  
After he arrived back at Hogwarts, Severus was completely at a loss at what to do. The castle was quiet, it appeared all the students were either safely in bed or too terrified to leave their common rooms. Either way, the halls were quiet. No one was patrolling obviously. Perhaps some type of passive aggressive and almost certainly childish response to the curfew. He ran his hands through his hair. His hands were shaking. From nerves this time, not post-cruciatus tremors. He decided to pour himself a massive medicinal drink. A nice, big, muscle-relaxant size portion. He sloshed a very generous amount in a tumbler, swallowed it in two gulps then refilled it.  
  
He sighed and sunk down slightly into the chair as he felt the alcohol begin to work.  
  
“Headmaster,” Phineas said to Severus’ right in a very small, tight voice. “The window.”  
  
Severus looked up at the window across the room and his entire body seized in a paroxysm of terror when he realised it was the Dark Lord. He swallowed the feeling, along with a burning mouth full of courage-flavoured whiskey.  
  
“My word that’s a large owl,” squinted Armando.  
  
Severus stood slowly and walked purposefully over to the window and unlatched it. Voldemort hung in the air like a ghoul.  
  
“My Lord,” Severus said. “You need only summon me and I shall attend to you. I do not wish for you to inconvenience yourself to request my service.”  
  
“I have business I need to attend to,” Voldemort said coldly. “I require your dedication Severus. You must not fail me.”  
  
“I will do what you ask of me,” Severus said.  
  
“Potter will come to Hogwarts soon. You must find him, and notify me immediately when you do,”  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” said Severus.  
  
Voldemort drifted closer, his inhuman eyes boring into Severus’.  
  
“Do not allow Potter to access any parts of the castle,” Voldemort ordered. “You have been one of my most steady followers Severus, but failure in this will cost you your life.”  
  
Severus bowed.  
  
“Everything I have is yours to take, my Lord,” Severus replied, his occulmency walls straining against the spiralling terror battering against them.  
  
“I will return,” Voldemort promised, and he was gone from the window; just a rapidly diminishing black shape in the darkening sky.  
  
Severus shut the window. Fuck. _Fuck_. He felt lightheaded with panic. This was the end right? It was coming and he hadn’t even told Potter anything. Obviously there was a horcrux in Hogwarts. But where? Severus shook his head. It didn’t matter. He didn’t have time to look through an enormous magical castle for an object that could be anything. He had to focus on finding Potter, and giving him Albus’ message. But what happened if someone else found him first? Alecto or Amycus? They were definitely the ‘hex first, ask questions later type people’. He had to get out of the office and wait for the wards to tell him Potter was in the castle.  
  
What if, his self-preservation piped up, Potter brings reinforcements with him? How long, it continued, would you last if he brings Lupin, an army of Weasley’s or Shacklebolt....or all of them? Severus frowned. Not long at all, he told himself, and certainly not long enough to pass anything on before his head and body went their separate ways. He needed a contingency. There was one possibility—a completely insane one—but it was all he could do.  
  
He strode into his chambers, walked over to the cabinet above his dresser and yanked it open.  
  
“Wake up,” he snapped at the portrait.  
  
The portrait of himself in his school robes shifted its eyes to meet his. It looked him briefly up and down.  
  
“You look like shit,” the painting of him said. “Or is it, _I_ look like shit? _We_ look like shit? I’m not entirely sure I’ve got the hang of this.”  
  
The portrait had been painted by a loyal Death Eater, so the likeness was far more flattering than Severus probably deserved. It more closely resembled the glamour version of him than the walking, talking disaster exhibition that was his normal self. It only came alive at his command, to allow it to take on board memories that would make the portrait seem like him until it finally awoke permanently at the point of his death. Otherwise it stayed silent and still, it’s black eyes staring at nothing. It creeped him out.  
  
“That is no consequence. I have some very important things you need to remember,” he said through gritted teeth.  
  
He didn’t actually like talking to his portrait, who he mostly found to be exceedingly unpleasant. This fact would probably be some fertile ground for exploration if the Wizarding world had anything resembling psychology. As it was, it didn’t, so Severus had thus far avoided pondering the glaring evidence that he didn’t like spending any more time with himself than he had to.  
  
The one excuse that Severus could allow the portrait was that it had the misfortune to be a reflection of himself during what he could easily claim to be the worst time in his life. He loathed being Headmaster, and had felt increasingly isolated and worn away as the terms had progressed. The portrait also had to be talked through Severus’ childhood in excruciating detail, which was another jolly jaunt down memory lane. And even the painted image of himself had looked depressed as it sat through his detailed recant of his teenage years at Hogwarts. The portrait had listened to a lot of sad, bitter thoughts.....so he couldn’t really blame it for being sad and bitter. He could, however, blame it for reminding him how prickly and disagreeable he was to spend time with.  
  
“That is my raison d’être after all,” the portrait commented sarcastically. Severus rolled his eyes. _Fucking smug git._  
  
“If the Dark Lord falls, then you probably won’t need to pass this on to anyone,” he began.  
  
“If the Dark Lord falls, both you and I know that I’ll be a smouldering pile of kindling in Minerva’s fireplace,” the portrait retorted. Then the image of him narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  
  
“You are expecting to be dead soon?” It asked. Severus sighed.  
  
“I’m trying to avoid it. But I need to make some alternate plans, in case I do. Looking forward to it are you?” He asked angrily and the portrait raised a groomed eyebrow.  
  
“Your death is my life after all,” it said truthfully.  
  
“Fantastic,” Severus said, his voice positively dripping icicles. The portrait looked at him steadily.  
  
“Tell me everything,” it said, suddenly serious again.  
  
Severus told it about the horcruxes, about Potter, and took the portrait through every memory he had intended on showing the boy. He was taking it through one of his long discussions with Albus when he suddenly trailed off. The portrait looked at him in confusion but Severus was lost in his memory, Albus’ words echoing in his head.  
  
_There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake._ ^  
  
“Nagini,” Severus said, understanding blooming across his face.  
  
“The snake,” the portrait said with some confusion as to the significance.  
  
“It’s a horcrux as well,” Severus explained.  
  
“Perhaps it would be easier at this point to list things that _aren’t_ horcruxes,” his portrait sneered.  
  
“Shut up,” Severus snapped.  
  
“So if I wake up,” the portrait began, ignoring his comment, “and Bellatrix or another Death Eater is Headmaster, where to from there?”  
  
“First find out if Potter is alive. Dumbledore has a few portraits scattered around the place and may know. Dilys has a frame in St Mungo’s and I suspect Armando has one in the Ministry. Or there is Phineas... he might still be in Granger’s bag.”  
  
“And then?”  
  
“Then you’ll need to find a way to get the information to Potter. If Potter is dead, then any of the remaining Order members or Filius, Aurora, Hooch..even Sybil. In a pinch, the Granger girl or any member of the Weasley family.”  
  
“And how will I do all this while stuck on a wall?” The portrait asked, with an insolent curl of the lip.  
  
“You will do what I’ve been doing every single day since I can remember. Improvise,” Severus said testily.  
  
“Fine,” the portrait sighed. Severus felt guilty. He was treating it the same way Dumbledore treated him.  
  
“I’m sorry I can’t help more,” he said. “But everything is changing so rapidly I fear any solid plan I left for you would quickly be rendered obsolete.”  
  
“That is no matter,” the portrait said, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ve lasted this long relying on ourself.”  
  
“True,” Severus agreed. “So, you understand?”  
  
“Yes,” the portrait said. “Lily good, Potter bad, you fucked it up, got them killed, then spent the next decade running around trying to protect the new, improved Potter. Who, it turns out, has a bit of badness stuck in him and needs to die. Is that about right?” The portrait smiled at him, a nasty little smile that would have been very familiar to any Gryffindor that sat in his potions class.  
  
“Yes,” Severus said through tight lips. “Sleep,” he ordered and the portrait was was still again. Severus restrained himself from throwing it in the fireplace. Instead he closed the cabinet on the cold, black stare and pale, severe features.  
  
He stood up, and took a deep breath. He looked around at the Headmaster’s chamber, making sure he hadn’t left anything incriminating out. The warded drawer was a risk, but hopefully they wouldn’t understand the significance of any of it. Except perhaps....  
  
Before he could change his mind Severus had opened the drawer and taken out the letter fragment and image of Lily. He put them safely into his pocket, then rewarded the drawer. Severus then walked out of the chambers, past the portraits—wondering briefly if his would join them soon—and out into the castle to wait for Potter’s arrival.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^ marks any piece of text lifted directly from JK's Deathly Hallows.
> 
> Hello everyone! I hope you like this chapter. I was pleased with it when I finished it - so I hope it rings well for anyone reading as well. I haven't given Snape a great run near then end - but then again, who would believe it if I did!
> 
> It's a wee bit shorter than last chapter (just over 2.5 thou) - but I didn't want to creep past where I ended it.


	30. The Headmaster’s flight

It was the small things, sometimes, that really highlighted to Severus the benefits of being a wizard. He was on his third lap of the castle and second cushioning charm in his shoes. A spell he had fond feelings about. He had quite clear memories of his mother complaining about her back after days spent on her feet. He'd counted the days until he was seventeen. Then on that day he'd snuck downstairs and cast his first spell as an adult in the wizarding world. His mother had known as soon as she'd put her shoes. They'd shared a warm glance across the breakfast table as Tobias had slept off his latest attempt at alcohol poisoning in the room upstairs. She had hugged him very hard. It had been a good day.

Severus passed the wall where the entry to the Come and Go Room was. Nothing. He had assumed Potter would go there first, then use that option to enter the castle. But it was entirely possible the room would provide an alternative exit into the castle, somewhere completely random. It was too much of a headache to try and work out where it would come out.

The four common rooms appeared, from what Severus could observe, to be quiet. Apparently. As usual the Fat Lady had given him a suspicious stare as he'd lagged in front of the Gryffindor entry which he'd returned full force. Who had ever though that sentient artwork was a good idea? Someone who obviously was never forced to spend a great deal of time with them, Severus decided. That was a lucky escape for them. And good bloody luck to the person who had to sit in the same room as _his_ portrait.

The wards were no help to Severus either. They'd been consistently telegraphing a state of alarm since the Dark Lord's surprise visit. Severus stopped and took the foe glass out of his pocket. Potter must be close. His face was no longer round and childish, as hunger had sharpened his features. Severus sneered to himself, he couldn’t help but notice that as Potter's adult features emerged he looked more like his father than ever. Even Weasley, hovering in his usual position behind Potter's right shoulder had appeared to have shed his lanky, adolescent shape. Potter and Weasley both looked grim and committed, and Severus hoped that commitment wouldn't waver once Potter knew everything he needed to. 

Severus grimaced. He'd forgotten to ask Phineas where Granger was. It didn't really matter, but she’d been a potential leverage point in the trio that he'd been hoping to use to his advantage. Despite their respective histories, he thought Granger might hesitate to immediately attempt to kill him on sight, and he had hoped she would possibly try and prevent Potter and Weasley doing the same. Severus was wearing his robe with the hex-resistant back, so that was some comfort. 

Severus' feet had obviously decided to return to his patrol, as he had already began to walk down the stairs from the Hufflepuff common room entry. Severus was trudging his way down the last few steps when he staggered, his Mark flaring under his skin. It wasn't the burn of a Summons, but it was the sharp tug of a Call. Someone was alerting the Dark Lord. Severus squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated. _Fuck._ Alecto. It had to be Potter. Where were they? Not for the first time Severus bemoaned the fact he didn't have the map that Potter had used in a number of irritating ways. Most of which directly inconvenienced Severus.  

He vacillated. _What to do. What to do._ The Dark Lord would be already on his way and it was a strong possibility Severus would pay dearly for not being the one to find Potter. He was glad he had talk to his pain-in-the-arse portrait.The whole castle would be awash with Death Easters very soon. He decided his next course of action, and started walking before his brain could point out what a disastrous decision he had just made. 

Severus strode quickly down to the dungeons, breaking into a jerky walk-run as he came down the last hallway leading to his old chambers. He pounded on the door insistently until it was pulled open by a very confused looking Horace. He was wearing beautiful green, silk, pyjamas that Lucius would have given a tick of approval to.

The others had never really warmed to Horace, Septima was particularly put out about his return and was very scathing to Albus in her opposition to it in their faculty meeting. The others had largely agreed with her assessment that Horace was all the bad traits of Slytherin presented in a solidly-built package. They all took pains to point out his habit of cultivating particular friendships within the student cohort for personal gain. This argument annoyed Severus as it was very clear to him that the nature of those relationships were always mutually beneficial. 

Horace had a talent for spotting potential. That was undeniable. Once he’d identified a suitable target he put great effort into mentoring the student, putting them in touch with his vast network of high performers, and watching them flourish. Of course Horace benefited from the resulting flourishing career, but everyone was always happy to pass on some of their life-victory spoils. After all, they wouldn’t be where they were _without_ Horace.

The other issue his colleagues failed to notice was Horace had no bias. He drew talent to him regardless of House, blood status, gender, ethnicity, wealth......none of that mattered. Had no one even noticed that Horace still was picking muggleborn students for his “Slug Club”, despite the public rise of the Death Eaters and the rumours surrounding the return of the Dark Lord?

Horace sniffed out the budding talent around the school with more dedication than a niffler. So Severus had not been surprised to see him in Charity’s muggle extension class one evening, sitting at the back of the room and listening to the students read. Two weeks later he’d turned up again, bringing Myron Wagtail with him. The Weird Sisters lead singer had spent a few hours taking the students through voice techniques and specialised charms to protect their vocal chords. He’d then stayed long enough to invite Charity out to drinks, offered the students backstage access to his next concert, caused all the witches to blush outrageously and then left. The students had been enraptured, as had Charity. _I never asked her if she went for the drink,_ Severus suddenly thought with a pang. 

"Oh....Severus....er I mean Headmaster. Is everything alright?" Horace was asking him hesitantly.

Severus frowned. He had been brought back to the present.

"Horace. You and the other Heads need to evacuate the school. Go get the Slytherin prefects and tell them to organise the younger students. Tell them to take them somewhere safe," he ordered Horace who looked even more bewildered.

“But....why? What is happening?" Horace asked.

"The castle can no longer provide protection," Severus said briskly. It would have to be enough.

"Protection," Horace repeated, looking at Severus oddly. Severus suddenly remembered that they'd been quite a lot of Cruicatus (both real and fabricated) that had been thrown about the place over the last year. Well....that explained the look. What _had_ it been protecting them from? Enjoying a good nights sleep perhaps? A trauma free existence?

"Yes," he said, ignoring the look. "I must go. Do not delay Horace. The Slytherins are your responsibility."

 "Yes. Of course." Horace stammered, pulling his robe around him nervously.

Severus turned and strode off down the hall, leaving a perplexed Horace behind him. Severus hoped the older man would follow his direction, but for now, he had to find Potter. He felt the memories he'd identified for the boy jostling at the forefront of his mind. He just needed one opportunity and he could push them past Potter's paltry defences and into his mind.

Severus decided to do a sweep of the other common rooms and was heading back towards the Ravenclaw tower when he saw a figure ahead, striding through the gloomy corridor in an unmistakable tartan dressing gown. _Minerva._ Perhaps she had killed the Carrows. He doubted she had, after all she hadn’t killed him yet and she hated him far more. Severus decided that whatever it was she’d done to the Carrows had been undoubtedly been thoroughly deserved.

Severus watched her moving quickly towards him and he stepped behind a suit of armour, Disillusioned, and watched her approach. She was speaking to someone but for all intents and purposes she appeared to be alone. Well that had to be the Incredible Disappearing Boy didn’t it? Severus sucked in a breath, he needed only the slightest glimpse of the boy to push the memories. And if there was one consistent theme to Potter, it was rashness. It should be relatively simple to goad him into dropping the cloak. Severus cancelled his Disillusionment charm and shifted position behind the armour. Minerva stopped immediately, raising her wand. 

“Who’s there?”^ She demanded. 

Severus thought it was probably as good as time as any to harness some of his paltry drama skills.

“It is I,” Severus said in a low, menacing tone, and immediately regretted it. _Fuck_. That sounded stupid. He decided to re-group. “Where are the Carrows?”^

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus," Minerva snarled. It was back to _Severus_ again, Severus thought abstractly. He wondered whether that meant anything.

"I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder," Severus commented airily. 

“Really? And what gave you that impression?" ^ Minerva snapped back at him, her wand still pointed threateningly at his face. Severus began to inch forward, closer to where he assumed Potter was. He flexed his left arm, clenching and unclenching the hand by his side. Minerva’s eyes didn’t miss the movement. Her face turned ugly with disgust.

"Oh, but naturally. You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot," she said icily. Severus was still moving, infinitesimal step by infinitesimal step, towards her.

“I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors Minerva,”^ Severus commented neutrally, trying to redirect her attention away from his movement.

“You have some objection?"^ Minerva was positively crackling with magic. Severus was slightly alarmed, she was obviously spoiling for a fight. He just wanted Potter to fling the cloak off and scream something adolescently Gryffindor, and fire some ineffectual hexes so Severus could cram his empty skull full of knowledge. Was it too much to ask? 

“I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?"^ Severus wondered aloud. Ah, he thought the wards alerted him to a space just behind Minerva. _There_ Potter was.

"I thought I heard a disturbance."^ Minerva replied cannily. Severus was getting nowhere. Perhaps.... perhaps it was time to ramp up the situation?

“Really? But all seems calm." Severus made a quickly show of sweeping the room with his eyes, then he immediately turned them back upon his colleague. “Have you seen _Harry Potter_ Minerva?” He asked smoothly. “Because if you have I must insist--"^

Minerva attacked him, suddenly and viciously. Severus responded purely on instinct and her attack thudded against his hastily erected shield charm, rebounding and knocking her sideways. _Bloody hell!_ Severus thought as Minerva tore a torch from the wall and sent a blistering circle of flames scorching toward him. She _was_ trying to kill him! 

Severus turned the spell against Minerva, transforming the flames and acrid smoke into a hissing, black snake which reared up in front of her. Severus thought the snake might pull Potter out of hiding, expecting the teenager to dash out and start commanding it in Parseltongue or something. No such luck, Severus sighed to himself as Minerva cut the snake down with a slash of her wand and transfigured the smoke into vicious looking daggers which spun around and flew at him.

Severus accio’d the suit of armour in front of himself, wincing apologetically as the blades pierced the metal. And when the fuck was Potter going to get involved? Severus didn’t really want to fight Minerva for hours waiting for the boy to finally decide to take revenge for Dumbledore, Black and whoever else he blamed Severus for. He raised his wand.

“Minerva!" Screamed Hooch from down the hall. Severus saw Filius, Hooch and Horace racing towards them. He groaned. When he’d asked Horace to gather the other staff and evacuate the castle, he hadn’t really included the unspoken... _and don’t kill me while you’re at it_ part. In hindsight, this had been a mistake.

“No! You'll do no more murder at Hogwarts!"^ Filius shouted, wand raised as he charged towards Severus. Severus didn’t think he’d heard him so angry before. 

The armour that had taken the full impact of Minerva’s blades turned around and clutched at him with its heavy, metal arms. _Fuck, fuck!_ Severus thought as he struggled clear of the armour’s embrace. This had gone completely to shit. He had to go. He couldn’t hold off four colleagues, plus Potter who would certainly take the opportunity to hex him given half the chance. He had to leave. He pushed the armour away and sprinted off down the hall, hoping the Malfoy robes would protect his back as he ran. It seemed his sprinting ability had come in handy in all manner of ways this past year. 

Minerva and the others were following him, Severus made a quick decision and ducked left into an empty classroom. He ran straight at one of the windows and blasted the glass out as he dived forward and out. The wards pulsed around him as they let him through, gasping for air as he soared upwards.

“Coward!” Minerva screamed behind him from the broken window. “Coward!”

It was funny how the night air stung his face, Severus mused, it made his eyes water quite badly. He tried to blink them clear, but they were resisting. Thankfully the unexpected and sudden searing pain in his arm caused him to lose concentration and plummet downwards, thus relieving him from worrying about his overactive tear-ducts. He gasped and managed to palm his wand, touching it to the Mark as he fell. He felt the immediate compression of the magic as his body responded to being forcibly apparated. 

It had been years since Severus had experienced a personal Summons. It consumed a great deal of the Dark Lord’s power so he had tended to only used it if he required a particular servant urgently. The Mark operated as a type of portkey, and brought the lucky recipient right to the feet of their master, wherever he was. Severus appeared abruptly in front of said feet, and only managed to restrain himself from giving Voldemort a vomit pedicure by intense willpower and concentration.

“Severus,” greeted Voldemort in his coldest voice. “I believe I told you what the cost of your failure would be.” 

“My Lord,” Severus choked out. “Alecto found the boy first, and alerted the staff. The Carrows are both incapacitated. The staff turned on me. I was ejected from the castle.”

“You fled,” spat Voldemort.

“I survived,” Said Severus bitterly. “It’s what I do.” 

There was a moment of silence then Voldemort laughed.

“Ah yes. If anyone understands the importance of survival,” he commented almost wryly, “it is myself.”

“Yes.” Severus said, still prostrated on the ground, his insides clutching and cramping.

“We shall take the castle, and find the boy.” Voldemort said. There was a murmur in the crowd around him.

“Snape, are our children safe? My son, is he still inside?” Vaisey asked desperately, pushing through the crowd of black robes. Voldemort’s eyes narrowed.

“And my niece? She’s Ravenclaw.” Another voice from behind him called. Voldemort’s pale, almost featureless face showed no expression, but Severus could almost see annoyance wafting off him. He did not like impromptu conversation starters from his followers. He was not a fan of the icebreaker, Severus decided.

Severus struggled up to a seated position while deciding on his course of action. _Protect the children._ Wasn’t that what he agreed with Albus? Protect the children.

“Our Lord entrusted me with the care of the school because he values magical blood,” Severus said to Vaisey. “Without the influence of Dumbledore, Hogwarts is something we can be proud of again.” He propped himself up on one arm and waited for....well....whether his instincts were correct or whether they were very wrong and he was going to be very dead, very soon. 

“You’re a disgrace,” sniffed Bellatrix. She had raised her own wand towards Severus, obviously expecting to be able to deliver the end she’d wanted to for so long. She smiled and Severus met her eyes without flinching. Well, fuck it right? He’d given it a good, hard go.

“Silence Bellatrix. He is correct.” Voldemort said smoothly. Bellatrix sighed audibly, lowering her wand.

“I will go into the castle to retrieve the boy,” Narcissa volunteered to Bellatrix’s side. Severus didn’t need Legilimency to know she wanted to find Draco. 

“No. I will go,” interrupted Vaisey, who was promptly elbowed aside by another volunteer. Voldemort held up a hand and the jostling ceased.

“No,” said Voldemort thoughtfully, “they shall deliver him to me.” He touched his wand tip to his throat and Severus felt an intense pressing inside his skull as Voldemort’s voice echoed inside.

_I know you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. ^_

There was silence around him for quite some time. Soon, the faint popping of multiple apparitions could be heard close by. Severus jumped upright, wand in hand as others around him followed. The group Vaisey pushed passed Severus and ran forward towards the approaching group.

“Adrian!” The man called and the teenager ran to him.

Severus blinked. The students had been evacuated to the _Forbidden Forest_? This was an interesting new definition of safe that Severus had not previously been familiar with. The older students must have brought the younger ones by side-apparition. There was a brief moment of chaos within the ranks as parents sought out their children, Narcissa was fruitlessly moving between the groups. Lucius was calling for his son, but there was no reply. Children without parents in the Death Eaters stood nervously to the side, flanked by a tense looking Mister Zabini.

Severus saw Miss Bulstrode and pulled her aside. He knew her parents weren’t here. Her mother was a muggle, her father quite obviously was partial to muggles. Neither of them were prime Death Eater recruitment fodder.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed at her. “Bringing _first years_ here?”

“Professor Snape, sir, I was afraid that they wouldn’t be safe in Hogsmeade. If you’re a Slytherin, you are a target. It was the only place Blaise and I could think of,” she explained, looking completely miserable. It was blatantly obvious that this was the last place she wanted to be. He sighed.

“Was the rest of the school evacuated?”

“No sir, a lot of the students are staying to defend the castle,” Miss Bulstrode whispered to him, eyeing the figure of Voldemort in the distance.

“What?” Asked Severus in complete astonishment. Bloody Minerva and her pointless Gryffindor bravado. She’d gone mad. It was completely irresponsible to allow the students to stay in the castle. He’d only been gone half an hour and already the remaining students were all in mortal peril. Fat lot of good he’d done if he’d kept them alive merely to be murdered by Death Eaters. _Shit._

“Yes Sir, almost all Gryffindor, and quite a few Ravenclaw and some Puffs. Blaise and I made everyone leave. Professor Slughorn made us promise.” Her eyes were glistening. Severus put a hand on her shoulder.

“Considering the options available to you I believe and and Mister Zabini made the best choice available. You have done well,” he gave her a half smile. She shrugged.

“Where is Professor Slughorn?” Severus asked.

“In Hogsmeade sir. He said he’d send us a message once he found a safe location,” Miss Bulstrode answered.

“Is Potter in the castle?” Severus asked. She paused.

“I didn’t see him sir,” she said firmly. 

Severus had known her from when she was eleven, had sat with her when she’d been teased by boys in her year, and apparated her to a telephone so she could call her mother who’d been hospitalised during term one in her sixth year. He knew when she was lying. She’d seen Potter alright. He didn’t press her on the issue.

“Professor Snape,” there was a slight tug on his sleeve and he turned to see Miss Parkinson.

“Miss Parkinson,” acknowledged Severus.

“Draco isn’t with us. Neither is Greg or Vincent. I think they are back at school,” she said quietly.

“They have decided to defend the castle?” Severus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I think Draco is going to do something stupid,” Miss Parkinson said worriedly.

“I don’t doubt it,” said Severus wryly. “Take everyone to the Eastern edge of the forest and wait for Professor Slughorn,” he ordered, “do not permit anyone to return to the school. I am relying on you.”

“Yes Professor,” both girls said, and Severus watched them rounding up young students from their parents, directing them back to the group. 

Severus turned to walk back to the Dark Lord. He knew Potter was in the castle, he had to figure out a way to get back there and stay alive long enough to give him the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes on this chapter.
> 
> Any dialogue marked ^ is taken directly from JKR’s Deathly Hallows. There is a bit of dialogue lifted from her book in this chapter and the next. But I’m sticking to canon so can’t be helped. I hope it isn’t too distracting. 
> 
> Horace: I thought the slug-club was elitist and shit when I read HP as a kid. But when I was older I saw it more as a very entrepreneurial person picking out talented individuals. So...I tweaked it a bit. I never thought I had a soft spot for Horace but there you go!
> 
> In canon he seems very confused by Minerva attacking Snape. Then he tries to convince Minerva to evacuate the castle but she’s having none of it. So..I thought, well maybe he was acting under instruction. Anyone who is reading a Snape-heavy fic prolly isn’t too worried about me making Slytherin characters a bit more “layered”.
> 
> The Slytherins: So in canon they all leave before the battle, but this fits with how I’ve portrayed them in this story. The password for their common room that Severus witnessed “Survival”, they want to live and the older ones are looking out for their younger snakes. 
> 
> Minerva: When I read the books when I was young I was all like YAS DEFEND HOGWARTS. As an adult I thought Holy shit you can’t let teenagers volunteer for this Minerva you’ve gone rogue.
> 
> Hope you guys liked! I originally intended to do the whole battle in one chapter but I got carried away with this part of the story.


	31. The battle and the shack

It was mayhem inside the castle’s grounds. Screams, spells cast indiscriminately and a lot of confusion. Severus was intent on keeping his head attached to his body as he led his group forward. Somewhere in the distance were Bellatrix, Yaxley and Travers and their respective groups. Greyback had been sent deeper into the forest to recruit any of his brethren that dwelled within. Severus recalled there had been, at least at some stage, a pack of lycans living in the forest under Albus’ protection. Severus hoped that little excursion would lead to a satisfactory break down in negotiations and eventually, to a permanent resolution to the Greyback issue. Maybe they’d join Greyback...maybe they’d rip his face off...maybe they’d do both. Severus guessed it would be one of those wait and see type situations.

Severus wanted to shake off his group and find Potter, but it required staying alive to do so. He’d taken the men and women following him on a circuitous route through the grounds. If he was correct, he’d avoided a number of secret passages, on the off chance they were being used by students to leave, or by reinforcements to enter and join the defence of the castle. If he was wrong, he’d just wasted a good part of thirty minutes serpentining around the forecourt and looking like an idiot. There was bloodlust in the air tonight. Everyone was on a high from the final stirring call to battle Voldemort had issued to his followers.

 _“Leave Potter,”_ The Dark Lord had ordered, _“but kill all who stand beside him. Cut them down while he watches. I want him to see the cost of his choices. But do not harm him.”_

This had been partially good news to Severus, as it meant he had a much better chance of finding the boy alive. But it had led to some competitive posturing about who would be the one to fell Weasley and Granger. Bonus points and the like of course. Although no one seemed to remember what their names actually were beyond Blood-traitor and Mudblood. Thankfully, this debate had been resolved by an enormous giant who emerged from the forest and proceeded to snatch up one of their number with one of its massive hands and bite his head off.

Chaos had then reigned briefly as black-robed figures exhibited a wide variety of responses ranging from screaming terribly and ducking behind a tree (Goyle), fainting (Crabbe) and firing ineffective hexes at the giant’s thick skin (Rookwood). It had turned and reached towards Severus with its blood-splattered fingers. _Not bloody likely,_ he’d thought, then spun to the side and fired off a spell, watching the crimson ball of light thudding against the giant’s face. It blinked, yowled gruesomely and, to Severus’ intense relief, fell over. There was a stunned moment of silence, then a chorus of excited shouting as Goyle and Yaxley pounded Severus on the back and Travers even (goodness!) shook his hand. The Dark Lord stood silently, having observed the whole proceedings.

“Severus, what spell was that?” He had asked, gliding closely to Severus and staring at him intensely.

“A simple stun, my Lord,” Severus has said “with a slight modification.”

Severus had decided _not_ to mention that it wasn’t a stunner at all. In fact, he’d adjusted the Sonorous Charm based on on a whim. Well, sort of. After his musings on muggles and their weapons, he’d decided to read a bit more on what they used. He’d been particularly intrigued in ones that used high power sound waves, with a pulse that led to neuro-muscular incapacitation. Severus was motivated to expand his arsenal of non-lethal, yet debilitating spells so had decided to experiment. This had been his first deployment of the spell on something living. And also massive, Severus had thought, looking at the unconscious mound of flesh...absolutely massive. 

“A very powerful Stun indeed,” the Dark Lord had observed. “to fell a giant.”

Severus had bowed and scraped and the Dark Lord had stared at him for quite some time until he finally turned away and ordered their attack to begin. He had then swept off in a different direction, with Lucius trailing behind. 

Severus was brought back to the fighting around him by a throaty battle cry from above him. He ducked just in time to miss the screaming potted mandrake. He thought it had been lobbed by Pomona, but he was only guessing based on the vague glimpse of some bright pink and orange earmuffs behind the ledge above. The Death Eater behind him sent a blast towards the earmuffs and there was a shouted profanity that was _definitely_ Pomona’s voice before a volley of Snargaluff pods rained down. One of his group howled as the tubers latched into his face. Severus swept it away with a lazy Stun.

“Get up,” he hissed to the fallen man. Ah, Vaisey. He staggered to his feet, blinking wildly and clawing at his cheeks. Severus looked him over.

“You’re useless until the sap dries,” he said coldly. “Return to the forest until you can feel your face again.”

Vaisey nodded and ran unsteadily back the path they’d just fought their way through. _One less Death Eater,_ Severus thought. He looked ahead. 

The battleground was simultaneously preposterous and nightmarish. Enormous spiders reared up as tangles of Devil’s Snare clutched at their legs and amongst the rubble and stone guardians were hints of the terrible carnage; a still hand, a motionless leg. Severus avoided looking in case he recognised someone. He heard faint howling in the distance. Ah shit. 

“Severus!” He heard called from behind him. Severus didn’t turn around. He was likely to get attacked by any number of Sprout’s greenery if he did. 

“Severus,” Someone clutched at his sleeve, Severus looked down then up again,

“Lucius, what is it?” Severus asked, his gaze moving over Lucius’ battered face. One eye was swollen almost shut and his upper lip was split.

“The Dark Lord wishes to see you. He is in the Shack,” Lucius said, he dropped his hand from Severus.

“Ah,” Severus said, “no Summons?”

“It appears he is saving his strength,” Lucius commented wryly.

“Alright. Thank you Lucius, I will go to him now,” Severus said. “Take the group forward into the castle. I will rejoin you soon.”

“Probably best not to delay. He is a little on edge,” said Lucius, touching his bruised cheek lightly.

“Yes,” Severus said and cast a temporary shield so he could leave without a plant eating his eyes out, He began to walk off.

“Severus?” Lucius called after him, and Severus turned back towards the man.

“Was Draco in the castle?” Lucius asked.

“He was, although I’m not sure what his plans were,” Said Severus as gently as possible.

“I’m sure he does not either,” Lucius sighed. He hunched over, and to Severus looked as small as his son had. Without his wand and his arrogant bearing, Lucius was diminished, a crude imitation of his golden, peacock-strut former self.

“Is this what you imagined when you took the Mark?” Severus asked suddenly. Lucius raised an eyebrow, but he laughed at the question. A little maniacally, but a laugh all the same.

“I was right about the amount of torture,” Lucius said as he smirked, and the old Lucius reappeared briefly in the wolfish grin, “except I hadn’t anticipated being on the receiving end of so much of it.”

Severus huffed in amusement. He was struck by the thought he might not see Lucius again. This, strangely enough, bothered him to some extent. Lucius was, at the heart of things, a man with deep commitments....and all those commitments were mostly to horrible things. But he’d been one of Severus’ closest associates....Severus wasn’t quite sure why.....for many years. In fact, he a lot of conflicting feelings about the older man who’d brought him to Voldemort, exhorting Severus’ skills in potions and his proficiency in the Dark Arts.

Lucius was simultaneously a confidant and competitor, as he and Severus performed the intricate dance of riding the ebbs and flows of power and favour in the Dark Lord’s eyes. Severus liked the charismatic aristocratic who had a disarming sense of humour and deep pockets, but he feared the brutal zealot who approached killing pragmatically, and often staged off boredom by giving Severus fashion interventions. Severus remembered the eyebrow-plucking spell vividly. He’d looked surprised for days. He shuddered.

He wondered if Lucius had ever liked any part of him at all, or whether he’d merely been useful.

“Good luck finding Draco,” Severus said, and he thrust his hand towards Lucius, wanting to say goodbye in his own awkward way. Lucius eyed it suspiciously.

“Steady on old man, I’ll see you at the end,” Lucius said, and ignoring the outstretched hand, he instead patted the top of Severus’ arm. Severus nodded and watched Lucius turn back towards Hogwarts, limping slightly as he walked.

Severus made his way to the Shack. He flew part of the distance, then trudged up the final path towards the dilapidated entrance. Voldemort waited for him in the main room, sitting at a table. Nagini was floating next to her master, writhing fitfully inside a shielded bubble that glittered like the night sky.

“My Lord, you requested my presence,” said Severus. Voldemort glanced at him.

“Lucius must have finally discovered one task he wouldn’t fail dismally at,” the pale man sneered.

Severus nodded tersely. He couldn’t help darting another look at the snake. Voldemort followed his gaze.

“Ah yes, my beautiful Nagini. I must keep her protected. She is very important to me,” he told Severus, and something almost akin to fondness softened his cold tone. 

“A sensible decision my Lord,” agreed Severus. 

He remembered Albus’ words. Voldemort was worried about Nagini....worried about the piece of his soul she was carrying within her. The Dark Lord must have felt when the others were destroyed, Severus decided, and each one brought him closer to mortality. Severus felt a sense of urgency quicken his pulse. He _had_ to return to the battle. He had to tell Potter what he needed to hear. Whatever it was Voldemort wanted, he decided to do it quickly so he could make his way back to Hogwarts.

“My Lord, as always, I am yours to command,” Severus offered. 

“Yes, mine to command. You have _always_ been mine, faithful and dedicated,” Voldemort purred.

“You flatter me my Lord,” Severus answered, “I wish to serve you in the battle, let me return so I can reclaim the castle and bring you Potter.”

“No Severus. I do not require your skills in that regard,” Voldemort said blandly. 

“We have almost won,” Severus responded, a little desperately. “My Lord, their resistance is crumbling-“^

"-and it is doing so without your help. Skilled wizard though you are, Severus. I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there.....almost,” ^ Voldemort was staring down at the table, where one of his thin fingers was stroking the wood of the wand he’d removed from Albus’ tomb.

"Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please,” ^ Severus said beseechingly. He walked towards the table where Voldemort was sitting. Nagini hissed at him silently from within the protection of her watery, star-speckled sphere.

Voldemort stood up behind the table and stared directly at Severus. He met the gaze of the Dark Lord evenly but strengthened his mental walls. His memories were at the sitting at forefront of his mind, awaiting their deployment, making them vulnerable.

"I have a problem, Severus,”^ Voldemort said evenly. Severus neck prickled uncomfortably. Something wasn’t right. 

"My Lord?" ^ He asked.

Voldemort held up the wand, twisting it back and forth. Severus was close enough to see there was intricate carvings of clusters of elderberries trailing down the fine, dark wood.

"Why doesn't it work for me?"^ Voldemort asked, sounding puzzled. Severus’ heart thundered in his chest. The buried part of himself preoccupied with self-preservation shrank down ever further inside him, terrified.

"My-my Lord? I do not understand. You-you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand." ^ Severus said nervously. 

Even occulmency couldn’t prevent the fear that choked his throat and reduced his normally smooth, baritone voice to a stuttering stammer. Severus had spent a large chunk of his current lifespan perfecting that voice, which was useful in maintaining order in the classroom and especially in unsettling recalcitrant pupils. Now, even that part of his carefully constructed facade was falling away.

"No. I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary, but this wand...no. It has not revealed the wonders it had promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago.....No difference."^ Voldemort spat darkly. 

He began to pace the room, and Severus watched him apprehensively. The Dark Lord stopped and turned back towards Severus.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus...do you know why I have called you back from the battle?"^ Voldemort asked softly.

Severus’ mouth was dry, he couldn’t speak. There was something very threatening about the situation. He stared at Nagini, focusing on the shield charm protecting the serpent. If this was it, perhaps he could take out the snake. One less horcrux for Potter to find. But no....no....he had to get to Potter. He _had_ to.

"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."^ Severus turned to the Dark Lord, willing his master to release him from whatever this situation was.

"You sound like Lucius,” scoffed Voldemort. “Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

"But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by one other than yourself--" Severus began to argue.

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends -- the more, the better -- but do not kill him.” Voldemort said dismissively. He walked a few steps toward Severus and fixed him with his inhuman gaze. “But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable." ^

“My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But- let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can-“^ Severus could only think of Potter, and how the boy would never defeat Voldemort while his own body anchored the Dark Lord to life. He _must_ be told. 

“I have told you, no!” Voldemort’s voice with tinged with barely concealed frustration building to anger. He turned again, pacing forward a few steps. “My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!”^

“My Lord, there can be no question, surely—?” ^ Severus was beginning to lose track of the conversation. _What was he talking about?_

“-but there is a question, Severus. There is.” Voldemort halted his steps but his hands never rested from moving the wand about in his hands. _Albus’ wand,_ Severus told himself. 

“Why did both wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?” Voldemort looked up at Severus as he asked the question in a soft, deadly tone. 

Severus’ gut cramped in sympathy with the rest of his body that was indicating with greater and greater insistence that he had to leave the current situation now, now now now.

“I -I cannot answer that, my Lord.” He shook his head. His mind had failed him. He was struggling to manufacture the correct answer, the correct information, the correct deflection, anything that would placate the terrible man that stood before him.

“Can’t you?” Voldemort asked. He looked down at the wand again, and traced the carvings with his thin fingers.

“My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another’s wand. I did so, but Lucius’ wand shattered upon meeting Potter’s.” Voldemort continued conversationally. The casual nature of his tone in striking contrast to the malevolent undercurrent to his words.

“I-I have no explanation, my Lord.” Severus fumbled for something to say.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from it’s previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

“My Lord - let me go to the boy - “ Severus almost begged, inside his mind was churning. He’d heard stories about the Deathstick. Who hadn’t? He’d thought they were just that, stories. He’d never imagined Albus had held a wand that powerful. Perhaps it had helped him defeat Grindelwald. Had the wizard been so great because of the wand? Or had it merely been attuned to Albus’ power? Severus had no idea.

“All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here, wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner.....and I think I have the answer.”

Snape knew the answer. He knew. How had he not noticed the Dark Lord’s attention and musings on his power? _His power_. He wondered if Albus had planned it this way, after all, he had _made_ Severus promise to be the one to kill him. Was this revenge? Tying up loose ends? 

Whatever it was, it was bloody shitty. Severus wouldn’t have put it past Albus to have planned this from day one. He was always playing the long game. Severus felt very foolish suddenly. He had thought he’d seen through his masters, but he hadn’t. They’d bested him.

“Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.”

“My Lord-“ Severus was almost disgusted with the desperation in his voice. How was it he was so frightened when Basila had seemed so defiant?

“The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not it’s true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner,” ^ Voldemort turned to Severus and his eyes were filled with a burning intensity. “You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine.” 

“My Lord!” ^ Severus protested, raising his wand instinctively. Voldemort was going to strike him down, but with Potter and the snake around there was no point counter-attacking. The Dark Lord wouldn’t be dead, or he would be, but not for very long. Severus was a bit sketchy on how it worked. There was always the snake, however.

“It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last.”^

Voldemort slashed the wand toward Severus. Severus was expecting a spell, so when it didn’t occur he was surprised enough to briefly pause. In this moment the shielded sphere protecting the snake rolled over and engulfed Severus. 

He was face to face with Nagini within the swirling galaxy of her protective cocoon. Severus wasn’t sure what was creating the shield, but he was unable to cast a wandless, or nonverbal or any type of spell. He couldn’t even bring his hands up into the sphere to protect himself. He was completely helpless.

Severus heard the Dark Lord hiss something indistinguishable and immediately the snake reared up in front of him. 

“Fuck!” Severus blurted out as Nagini struck. He could feel her fangs sinking into his neck. It was agonising. Fuckity fuckity fuckity fuck.

“I regret it,” Severus heard Voldemort say. _Well that makes two of us,_ Severus thought abstractly through the world of pain that had become his immediate concern. 

Nagini released his neck as her cage lifted off him. Without the support Severus fell to the side. He could feel blood gushing from the wound. He vaguely acknowledged that Voldemort was leaving the room, the snake floating serenely behind him. Severus clutched at his neck, trying to staunch the blood that was leaking out. Fuck, he could only think, fuck fuck fuck. 

Severus lay on the floor, feet involuntarily slapping against the boards of the Shack as he writhed in pain. He couldn’t muster the energy to think, to plan, to do anything except fruitlessly try to stop the blood leaking relentlessly out of him.

Someone was in front of him. Severus looked at the figure, his mind was beginning to fog as he drifted towards unconsciousness. But something sparked his brain, and with admirable resilience it poked at him with a sudden intensity.... ..... _potterpotterpotterpotterpotter._ He focused on the face, which was looking at him with naked horror. It _was_ Potter. If he wasn’t about to die a completely pointless, undignified and excruciating death, Severus would have thought he’d caught a lucky break.

Severus tried to summon his magical reserves to cast Legilimency, but there was nothing there. He almost shook his head in annoyance. The memories were there, pressing up against the edges of his mind. They were right there! In desperation he grabbed at Potter’s robes and as he did he felt.... _something_....give in his mind.

“Take...it.....take....it...” he ordered as he felt the memories begin to leak out....out of his eyes, his ears, his mouth. It was disconcerting, made even more so by the boy looking helplessly at the silvery fluid. _Shit_. Potter was going to watch that precious information drip uselessly away onto the floor. He was going to fail to live up to everyone’s saviour fantasy and Severus was going to die on the floor of the Shack having pissed away his life on a fruitless endeavour.

Severus started to feel himself fading, exhausted and disappointed, when he saw a wand flick over Potter’s shoulder and a hand pass over the flask it had just conjured. _Granger,_ Severus thought with relief. He thanked every know-it-all gene in her know-it-all body. How blessedly reassuring it was to be faced with some competence finally. Severus released his bloodied grip on Potter’s robes. He’d given him everything. It was all he could do.

Potter leant over him, looking concerned, which showed how bloody awful he must look. Potter didn’t look as much like his father when his features were wearing that expression, Severus thought erratically, his vision starting to blotch around the edges. He looked more like Lily.

“Look....at....me....” Severus gasped, perhaps if he could——

When he opened his eyes he was alone and still in a great deal of pain. _Ah._ He’d passed out. They’d left him. Gryffindor’s seemed to make a habit of leaving him to die. Apparently this act took longer than they’d expected because here he was....still clinging on. Plus he was lying on a bloody rock or something which was making dying both painful _and_ annoying. Severus used the last of his strength to dig out the object that was digging into his ribs.

It was the Slytherin Christmas bezoar.

Severus stared at it. He popped it into his mouth and with a monumental effort manage to swallow. Well. Now it was just the whole bleeding to death problem left to deal with. He closed his eyes. There were vials of blood replenisher in his pocket. He just needed to roll over and get them out. Rolling over seemed an insurmountable feat. He was very tired. Besides, it was the wound that was the problem, laced with Dark Magic, it was difficult to close. Most victims died of blood loss before the venom claimed them. Severus felt himself drifting into unconsciousness again.

Severus opened his eyes. _Oh_. He wasn’t in the Shack any more. He felt stronger too. He lifted an arm and felt his neck gingerly. The bite appeared to be closed. St Mungo’s? Had he been found and taken there? Had Potter won? Severus lifted his arm again, the Mark was still there. He wasn’t sure if that meant anything or not. He turned his head to his right and saw a grey stone wall he instantly recognised. His heart sank.

_Azkaban._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say on this one. 
> 
> Except, thanks to y’all on LJ for advice on working past a block and special shoutout to Zig for her advice on plotty plot plot.
> 
> Hope you liked!


	32. Remembering

**Six and a bit years later**

“Well that was intense,” said the tall, blonde man...Chris?...Severus thought his name was, as he lifted his face from the pensieve.

“Yes,” agreed Gough, who appeared a little shaken.

Severus glanced over at Minerva. She looked as if she’d aged thirty years in the time they spent face down in the pensieve and also appeared to be studiously avoiding his gaze. 

“Well I’m glad I didn’t gift you with Azkaban then,” said Severus. “That was the problem with playing both sides wasn’t it? It took me a week to figure out exactly who had imprisoned me.”  


There was an awkward silence. The shorter man that Severus had last seen across the room from him in a holding cell in Australia broke the revere by turning to face him.

“As hard as that was to witness,” Gough said, “thank you for sharing it. It was...good to finally see Basila.”

“I told you she was hard core,” Chris said. He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand. “That was my girl. Fucking tough as nails.”

“Chris...” Gough said warningly.

“That’s quite alright,” Minerva cut in smoothly. “Under the circumstances I think we can wave protocol and indulge in a spot of profanity.”

Severus was beginning to feel annoyed. What the hell was everyone being so weird about? It wasn’t as if they didn’t know what he’d done. Hadn’t his life been laid bare already in that stupid Skeeter biography?

“As promised,” said Severus curtly. “It’s what you _asked_ me to show you.”

“Yes. I did. You’ll forgive me if I need some time to process what I just saw,” Minerva said hoarsely. 

Severus walked a few steps away from Minerva and the two Australians. He needed a moment or two to gather himself together as well. Azkaban had been so fucking terrible he’d actually forgotten how also fucking terrible his time as Headmaster had been. Watching it again had brought back waves of the emotions that stained everything around that time of his life; helplessness, horror, fear, anger and always a desperate, desperate overwhelming loneliness. It was messing with him a bit at the present moment, if he truly admitted it to himself. The last vision of Minerva in his memories had been her screaming abuse out the window at him. It was hard to disassociate that last image when he looked at her now. He felt a hand press softly against his lower back.

“Hey,” said Hermione behind him. Severus turned around. She was standing there, looking concerned, looking....looking just like she had in the memories. Fuck. What was he _thinking?_ She was his student. His student! He felt sick. He was a loathsome old lecher. Fuck.

“I can’t do this,” he said.

“Would you like to go home?” Hermione asked. 

“No, I’m sorry... I can’t do _this_ ,” Severus gestured between them.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said. To be fair, she did look a bit confused. But he was confused. It was all very confusing.

“It’s not...I’m not.....” Severus shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I’m your teacher,” he finished lamely.

“Well, you _were_ ,” agreed Hermione. “But that was years ago.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” 

“Okay. Okay.” Hermione said. She reached for him but he couldn’t help himself and he shrank away from her. Her face fell.

“I’m sorry I made you come here. I’m sorry you had to see that,” Severus said.

“I came with you because you asked me to,” Hermione said. “You didn’t make me. I wanted to be with you because you needed me to be.”

“Fuck,” swore Severus. He felt completely overwhelmed, oppressed...he felt like the walls were closing in on him. There wasn’t enough air in the room.

“Just let me know what you need,” asked Hermione, who was looking a little stressed now. Fuck. He was hurting her now. He was poison.

“I need to get out of here. I need....” Severus looked at the woman in front of him. She’d taken on so much as a child, now she was saddled with a broken down wizard nearly twice her age. Her bloody former Professor. Fuck.

“Severus?” She asked.

He turned and ran. 

He found a pub not far from the Ministry and decided to get completely ratfaced. For old time’s sake.

He had just sat down with two pints of ale in front of him when he heard someone behind him.

“Mate. A beer would be perfect. Thanks a bunch.”

Severus looked up at Chris, who grinned, pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. Severus watched in bemusement as Chris pulled one of the pints over and took a long pull. He sighed in apparent satisfaction and put the half-empty glass back on the table.

“So. Your girlfriend was a bit upset,” said Chris, leaning back on an elbow in his chair.

“I imagine she’ll get over it,” Severus said.

“I’m not exactly sure you are reading the situation correctly,” Chris countered.

“She’s better off without me,” Severus said despondently.

“Ah,” Chris leant forward again. “Well if you aren’t that keen, how about you pass her number over?”

Severus stamped down the immediate urge to hex Chris into next year, and settled with shooting him a look that positively dripped with venom. Chris grinned somewhat triumphantly.

“Yeah. Thought so.” He took a lazy sip of his drink and eyed Severus speculatively.

“You know, we aren’t that much different, you and me.”

Severus glanced over at the handsome, blonde man. Who, on closer inspection, strongly resembled the imaginary surf instructor who’d previously ruined his Hermione beach-daydream by being attractive and sweeping her off her feet. Chris grinned under the surveillance, and Severus noticed his perfectly white, straight teeth. He sighed to himself. _Stupid unfair life._

“Yes. We’re practically identical twins,” Severus snapped. 

“I joined my unit when I was eighteen,” Chris began, obviously ignoring Severus. “And I was straight off overseas, dropping in and out of countries that were going to shit. I did whatever I was told to do, and didn’t really think much on it. I’ve watched atrocities occur without intervening as I was ordered only to gather intelligence, I left people behind as I couldn’t afford to be slowed down. I’ve done great things, you know, things I’m proud of. But I’ve also done things I’m not proud of, things I wouldn’t want people knowing about. Because of what they’d think.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. Chris shrugged.

“I’m not looking for redemption. I’m just telling you. War is shit. No one gets to the end of a war without some type of personal demon clutching onto their back. You do horrid shit, and horrid shit gets done to you. And whoever wins gets to strut around pretending they aren’t covered in the same amount of blood as the other side.”

Severus frowned as he took in what Chris had said. 

“He doesn’t know half as much as he thinks,” said Gough as he deposited three drinks onto the table. “But he does have his moments.”

Chris rolled his eyes and tipped back the last of his pint.

“Chris tells me these were Basila’s favourite drink,” Gough said and pushed one of the glasses towards Severus, who eyed the chunks of lime bobbing amongst mint leaves suspiciously.

“It’s a mojito,” said Chris helpfully.

“I know what it is, I’m just trying to figure out the best way to drink it,” Severus said and Gough laughed.

“To Basila,” Gough said, and raised his glass.

“To Crossy,” Chris raised his glass as well. Severus closed his eyes briefly and the image of a fierce woman telling him about facing up to bullies flashed in front of him.

“Sic semper tyrannis,” Severus murmured and lifted his glass without opening his eyes. He felt the others clink their glasses gently against his. He took a sip of the drink then opened his eyes again.

“I’m sorry I got your friend killed,” he said truthfully.

“Ah mate,” sighed Chris. “You didn’t. You didn’t. It was some fucking maniac. Crossy lived hard, she went out helping people...kids. She’d have done it again, knowing how it would end.”

“We actually came over to see your Minister as we are awarding Basila the Star of Gallantry. Posthumously obviously.” Gough interrupted.

“What type of award is it?” Severus asked.

“It’s a military one, so...muggle, not wizard. We thought Basila would appreciate that more. Our Defence Minister just signed off on it,” explained Gough.

“It’s for great heroism,” Chris said, “in times of great peril.”

“Ah,” Severus said as he thought of what she’d achieved. “It’s perfect.” 

“We’re working out the details with your Minister,” Gough said. “She said something about a plaque here on the wall of heroes also.”

“That’s inside the Ministry,” said Severus. “Basila probably would hate it. Surrounded all day by purer-than-thou politicians with wands up their arses.”

“Oh well then I’m definitely doing it,” Chris smirked. “We were always pulling the piss out of each other.”

“You’re on it, I suppose,” Gough said to Severus. Severus shrugged.

“Apparently. Somewhere. I think there was some issues with having me on there at all,” Severus said. 

“That’s messed up,” Chris commented but Severus shook his head. He didn’t care, did he? Gough rubbed his face. He looked tired. Severus supposed it felt like middle of the night or something to them.

“Thank you Chris,” Gough said sternly with a very clear _that’s enough_ tone. He then turned to Severus.

“We’re meeting with the Minister again tomorrow about the ceremony. I’d like you to be part of it.”

“Yes...fine,” sighed Severus. Another day with the new and improved Extra Awkward Minerva. Well now he didn’t _feel_ like getting plastered. He said his goodbyes to the two Australians, tried to pay for the drinks which resulted in much waving of hands and _no worries_ about the place before making his way back to Spinner’s End.

He looked around the quiet, dark kitchen. This house held him to the past in a lot of ways; the table he sat at with his mother, the dent in the doorframe where his father had thrown him against, and even past this out to the back step where he had sat with Lily on a rare occasion she visited his home. He’d been hoping it would also lead him to the future, and now it was drenched with Hermione memories as well. He could see the bookmark she habitually left on the first shelf of the pantry on the off chance she got distracted reading while getting something to eat. Her cardigan still hung off the back of the kitchen chair where she’d dumped it the night before. She’d taken it off, laughing, trying to kiss him—— he stopped that train of thought. He wondered if she’d go back to Grimmauld Place to live. 

Severus forced himself to stop looking at the cardigan and he walked upstairs to his bedroom, dreading the cold, empty bed awaiting him. He opened the door to find Hermione sitting up in bed reading, a bluebell flame hovering above her head to light the book. He was momentarily speechless.

“What are you doing here?” He croaked out. Hermione didn’t look up from her book.

“I was under the impression I lived here,” she said.

“Well, yes,” Severus admitted. “But I thought you wouldn’t be here...after what I said.” He trailed off. This time she looked up.

“Severus,” she said in a throaty, warm voice and held out her arms to him, just like his dream. He unbuttoned and discarded his coat, shucked his shoes and went to her. He crawled across the bed and into her arms, burying his face in her neck. He palmed her shoulder with his hand. Her body was so familiar to him he knew that his third finger rested on top of a small scar on her shoulder as his thumb caressed the hollow of her neck. She shivered. 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Shhhh don’t,” said Hermione gently. 

“I lost control,” Severus said apologetically.

“Quite understandably,” Hermione said. “Besides, I’m quite enjoying being the rational, low-maintenance one in a relationship for once. It’s a nice change for me.”

“I know what you mean,” Severus said. “It’s certainly the first time I’ve had the better hair.” He felt her chest move as a laugh bubbled out.

“Excuse me, I have amazing hair. Wonderful, exciting hair...cut through with spun gold...or copper...or something,” Hermione protested.

“You’re definitely on the right track with the metal analogy,” Severus said.

“Mmmm you think?” 

“Yes...but less spun gold and more...hmmm...steel wool,” Severus said, smiling into her neck. Her chest moved again with laughter.

“Oh! You’re awful!” She tapped him lightly on the head, which then settled immediately into a soothing, smoothing motion. He lay there for a while, enjoying the feeling.

“Hermione.”

“Yes?”

“I really like your horrid hair,” he said softly. He felt her kiss his head before resuming her gentle stroking.

“I really like your horrid hair too,” she whispered back. He huffed gently against her skin. She was quiet for a while and he heard the pages of the book turning. She was still caressing his hair so he assumed she was using a charm. He began to relax.

“Thank you for saving me,” Hermione said and he tensed.

“There is no need—“ he began to say.

“For me there is,” she said. “Thank you for saving me, for saving Ron and Harry, Luna, Dean.... even Hagrid...”

“Hermione,” Severus said warningly. “While I don’t really _want_ to talk about...that time. It is true to say, I just _can’t_ talk about it at the moment. I can’t.”

“I wish it hadn’t been so horrible for you,” Hermione said. Severus sat up.

“Nothing happened to me that wasn’t my own creating,” he said.

“We’ll agree to disagree on that point,” Hermione answered loftily and Severus sighed. There was nothing like being corrected on one’s own life experiences right? He supposed this is what people in relationships did for each other. Mixed you up and remade you. Seeing you as a better version of yourself.

“You know your portrait never woke up,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Profess— I mean Minerva found it after everything was over. But it never woke up. Given they’d found what they thought was your body, no one knew why it wouldn’t. They had three experts come and look at it.”

“It was a blessing in disguise,” said Severus, “he was an arsehole.”

“Severus! He’s you!” A scandalised Hermione retorted. 

“Exactly,” 

“Headmaster Black was very put out,” Hermione continued. “I think he was looking forward to the company.”

“Merlin help the Headmaster who would have had to put up with those two portraits haranguing them every day,” Severus scoffed. A thought popped into his mind. “Speaking of....did you put Phineas back in Grimmauld Place? I don’t remember seeing him.” 

“Oh...er,” Hermione blushed. “I thought he needed an education in the wonders of the muggle world so I’ve been moving him around a bit,”

“Go on,” said Severus leadingly.

“So...he had an excursion to the British Museum. He was there for a year or so...then I moved him around. He’s currently in the Science Museum. He said he likes it.”

“I’m sure that isn’t legal,” 

“Um yes I haven’t actually mentioned I’ve done it to anyone yet. I’ve put a notice-me-not on him. It’ll be fine,” Hermione said defensively.

“You’re not a huge follower of rules are you?” Severus asked with some amusement.

“Well yes...sometimes...when—“

“—when those rules suit you and your friends?” Severus asked.

“Ouch,” said Hermione. Severus raised an eyebrow to which she grinned somewhat ruefully.

“Must you be so irritatingly observant?” Asked Hermione testily.

“My many skills, alas, are a curse. My perfection remains a burden,” Severus answered. 

Hermione scoffed slightly. Severus noticed that she made no reference to his earlier outburst. Despite the excellent ammunition he’d provided her, she seemed disinclined to use it against him. It was a strange realisation.

“I think I might go see Filius,” Severus said.

“At Hogwarts?” Hermione asked.

“Yes,” Severus said. “I have a few personal effects I’d like to collect.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” Hermione offered.

“No,” Severus said, a little more forceful than he’d intended.

“Oh, sure.” Hermione said, looking slightly deflated.

“I don’t think I could go back there with you. Our former..er...roles...relationship would be much more prominent there,” Severus tried to explain.

“I understand,” said Hermione, looking like she didn’t remotely understand. He saw her mind ticking over to come back at him with exactly the perfect reason she _should_ go with him.

“I’ve always been an adult to you,” Severus said haltingly, “but you haven’t to me.”

“You feel a bit squicky about it,” Hermione summarised.

“That’s probably a fair description,” he relented.

“So.....no chance of maybe a little Forest of Dean sexy horcrux roleplay then?” She asked brightly.

“Well let’s just put that to one side for the moment,” Said Severus as he lay back down. He decided against telling her the large amount of squickiness attached to _that_ particular memory. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her pause, he could practically hear the gears in her head rattling out scenarios and deciding the preferred way ahead.

“I’m going to read for a while,” she said. “You go to sleep if you want. I’ll stay up a bit longer.”

Severus looked up at her drawn face. It was obvious she was exhausted. 

“All right,” he decided was the best course of action.

She lay back against her pillows and put her arm around him as she dimmed the light from the flame. The book hovered in front of her eyes. She seemed intent on the pages as he watched her for a few moments. He felt himself relaxing as he saw the little frown knot between her eyebrows, the one she got when she was deciding the author was Quite Wrong about something. Severus closed his eyes, and let himself slow down and drift off to the feeling of her even breathing and her hand warm against his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff never hurt anyone right?


	33. Meeting at the Ministry

Hermione joined Ron for lunch in the atrium of the Ministry. The Australian contingent had requested a meeting with her after they finished with the Minister. Since she’d be at the Ministry anyway, Hermione decided to catch up with Ron, who was now working there. After the fall of Carding, Ron and quit his job as an auror to start afresh. Ron had followed his brother’s path into Curse-breaking and had finally achieved the enviable combination of working hard at something he loved. He still, Hermione decided with affectionate exasperation, ate like a pig.

The atrium’s roof soared high above them, Hermione used to love looking up at the fractal scattered pattern of the roof panels reaching up to the glazing above. She wasn’t exactly sure whether the light that streamed in was natural or magical but it was beautiful all the same. It was probably the only part of the Ministry she had missed.

Working on Draco’s project had re-energised Hermione after the devastation of discovering her years of pushing for equality for all magical beings had been a complete write-off. This time she was starting smaller, and focusing all her energy on breaking down stereotypes in the younger generations. But she hadn’t given up on her other dreams. She’d just shelved them temporarily until an opportunity presented itself.

“Bloody Merlin’s beard ‘Mione, that all sounds completely horrible,” was Ron’s first comment after she blurted out a watered down version of what she’d seen in Severus’ memories. 

She had desperately wanted to talk to someone about it, but obviously couldn’t burden Severus, and Harry still had a lot of his own demons from that time yet to be exorcised.

“I actually can’t believe some of the things he did,” Hermione said.

“Or some of things he didn’t do, more to the point,” Ron added, ripping apart a bread roll.

“Yes, that too,” she sighed. 

“I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone outside the family,” Ron said hesitantly. 

Hermione put down her own sandwich, as if holding the bread would interfere with her ability to listen. “What?” She asked.

“The Ministry called Ginny in a few years ago for questioning,”

“Questioning? What about?”

“About what Snape did while he was Headmaster,” Ron answered quietly.

“What, besides saving everyone’s bloody life?” Hermione said angrily and Ron made a shushing motion. She clamped down on her annoyance.

“Obviously they weren’t the biggest fans of him, you know, because of the whole double-agent business remember?” Ron reminded her. 

Hermione blushed. She’d lately been noticing her lack of rationality on topics involving Severus. She felt such an overwhelming desire for him to be happy that somehow got mixed up into feelings of overprotectiveness. She worried constantly that she would scare him off. She wasn’t under any false impressions of her charms, and definitely thought she was hexing above her weight with him. She felt every day could potentially be the day he found out he could actually have any witch he wanted, and didn’t have to settle for her. His reaction in Minerva’s office had frightened her. Was it really that easy for him to decide they shouldn’t be together?

“Sorry,” she said. 

“They got Dad to head up an investigation to bring a prosecution case against him; for charges relating to administration of the Cruciatus on underage wizards and witches,” 

“Oh,” Hermione breathed. She couldn’t believe it. Or actually, she could believe it. She’d seen it in the Pensieve after all. She could still see the drawn, desperate face he’d worn that horrible year when she closed her eyes at night. It never ended, never, never. 

“Dad wasn’t entirely sure on why it was necessary to prosecute a dead man, and even why they transferred him to the section to do it, but he decided that if he ran it, then he could at least make sure it was done properly,”

“Go Mr Weasley!” Hermione whispered.

“Well obviously he needed witnesses right? Luna, Cho, Neville.....”

“Ginny,” Hermione guessed. 

Ron nodded. “Except what did Dad find out? Every single memory was fabricated. The Ministry was fuming, they couldn’t prosecute him for a a crime he didn’t commit. However there was one he _did_ commit—“

“The Memory Charms,” said Hermione sadly. 

“Yes. It took a long time for Ministry experts to unpick the false implants and remove them without damaging their minds,” Ron explained as Hermione listened, transfixed.

“There is residue in there, Ginny’s told me. She said they removed almost everything, except she says it’s like a whispery dream. But with the removal they took the false and left the real. So they all have Snape’s real memory of being tortured,” Ron finished.

“Oh shit,” Hermione said. 

Ron shrugged.“Yep. Ginny said it’s weird, like being in a Pensieve almost. They all signed a secrecy agreement, but Ginny said the Ministry was a bunch of misogynistic twats and she couldn’t give a shit what she signed,” he smiled at the fist-pump of solidarity Hermione had given upon hearing Ginny’s opinion on the previous Ministry.

“Is that why Ginny left?” Hermione asked.

“Mostly,” Ron said. “It was her dream to play Quidditch, but she also wanted to get away. I mean, Riddle’s diary forced Voldemort into her head, then Snape got in there as well.”

“Understandable,” Hermione said.

“She loved Harry, but she said she was too mixed up to be with anyone....needed to sort herself out,” Ron said.

“I adore Ginny,” said Hermione. “That’s so sensible.” 

Ron nodded, then looked nervous. “Have you, um, maybe, um thought Snape is perhaps too mixed up?” He asked, the blush that overtook his face seemed to signal even his body couldn’t believe what he’d had the courage to say.

“Too mixed up to be with me?” Hermione asked, hurt.

“No, you’re amazing. Terrifying, sure, but amazing,” Ron said seriously. “I mean.... with anyone. I mean, no one can live through what he did and be, you know, normal,”

“You lived with him!” Hermione protested.

“Yeah, but...well...he’s obviously perfected putting on a fake front right? Look,” he said hurriedly obviously worried Hermione was going to cry or explode or crysplode, “I’m your best mate aren’t I?”

She nodded.

“Well that means I get to be all protective and threatening,” he said. “Although don’t actually tell Snape that as I’m fairly sure he could completely destroy me with minimal effort.”

Hermione smiled. “I love you, you stupid idiot,” she said. He grinned.

“But—and don’t vomit—I love Severus too. I really do,” Hermione said. “If he’s a bit broken well, then, it’s not as if he doesn’t know it. And I’m certainly not in a position to throw rocks,” she added, placing a hand over her shirt-buttons that covered the raised scar on her sternum.

“No one is,” agreed Ron. He grinned. “Well I’ve done my brotherly duty for this week, can you please pass me that bread roll?”

Hermione laughed. She understood his concern, she really did. After all, she worried a little about Ron sometimes. Harry had told Hermione that Ron had been somewhat introspective after she’d moved out. They’d both jokingly agreed that such a condition was probably a novel experience for Ron, and he would certainly need their support to work through it. Hermione had thought, in a way, it had signalled the end of something.

After all, they’d been together, in their little trio, since they were eleven. They’d moved in together straight after school and spent the years afterwards thicker than proverbial thieves. She’d been the one to break this when she moved into Spinner’s End. Harry had let it slip that Ron had fretted for days and at one point even resorted to asked Kreacher if Hermione was happy where she was. Ron, Harry had decided with the hubris of someone who didn’t spend a great deal of time concerned with the feelings of others, missed Hermione. Family was a particular trigger point for him after Nagini’s attack on his father; Ginny’s possession, Fred’s death and the latest unsuccessful Death Eaters versus Molly Weasley dramatic showdown. Ron didn’t want to lose anyone else.

Hermione understood, and she had made an effort to go back to Grimmauld Place more regularly since the boys were too terrified to visit Spinner’s End. Hermione had thought....hoped?...Severus might have got a bit jealous when she started being away more. But he didn’t. While she decided that was definitely a good thing, a very silly, immature part of her wished he’d perhaps show a tiny but of interest in who she met with. But that, Hermione had decided, was insecurity talking. And she was not insecure, at all, being the strong, independent witch that she was. 

That she _definitely_ was.

Right?

But there was perhaps a slight, small, or maybe even insignificant issue she hadn’t quite dealt with.

Hermione imagined Severus’ mind would be like a well-organised gallery or showroom, with everything neatly laid out, labelled and alphabetical. Perhaps in there would be a ‘One True Love’ plaque underneath a too-beautiful for words Lily Potter statue, Hermione thought glumly. And in some dimly lit corridor she’d find a ‘She’ll do’ statue of her, complete with unmanageable hair and problematic teeth. If there even was a statue. Maybe she’d be relegated only to a bust, or perhaps a card, filed away with an appropriate Dewey reference. Hermione sighed to herself. Maybe she was overthinking things. After all, he travelled to Australia, fixed her parents with no concern to the implications for himself....sorted out Skeeter. He wasn’t a man of romantic words, she decided, he was more a ‘demonstrate through actions’ type of wizard. 

“Hello,” said a voice and Hermione both looked up. It was one of the Australian men, Chris.

“Oh hello!” Said Hermione.

“Gough is working out something with the Minister and Severus,” he said. “I’ve been left to my own devices. Which is always a dangerous idea.” 

“Would you like to join us?” Hermione asked. “Oh, and this is my friend Ron. Ron, this is Chris.”

“Yes, I recognised him,” Chris said shaking a bemused Ron’s hand and sitting down.

“Nice to meet you,” Ron said. “And good timing as I’ve got to go which means you can keep Hermione company. I’m meeting up with the Antiquities Section on a particularly tricky little amulet that’s giving spikes to everyone within a two feet radius.”

“Sounds useful but potentially unsightly,” commented Chris.

“Exactly,” laughed Ron, pushing back his chair to stand up. He gave Hermione a peck on the cheek and walked off towards the lifts.

“I wanted to talk to you without Gough anyway,” said Chris. “So this is serendipitous.”

“Intriguing,” smiled Hermione, “go on.”

“Basila had a lot of friends in the military, and we did quite a bit of fund raising. So, we think what we could use it for is an exchange,” Chris explained.

“Exchange?” Asked Hermione.

“Yeah,” Chris said, “between Hogwarts and our school. A semester.” 

“That sounds great!” Hermione exclaimed.

“We also had an idea about your group,” 

After the Pensieve viewing spectacular where Severus had.....er......needed a bit of space, Hermione had spent some time talking with Chris. She’d been really interested in the differences between the two countries, as had he, and she’d ended up giving him a potted history of her and Draco’s pet project. Until Severus, Hermione was used to males who half-listened to her, smiled vacantly and who were obviously thinking about Quidditch...or themselves...or themselves playing Quidditch...about two minutes into anything she tried to tell them. Chris, however, was cut from Severus cloth. He listened, asked questions and contributed meaningfully. Hermione had been in windbag heaven. 

“We were also thinking of something involving your group as well. We have a lot of areas where we’ve combined muggle and magical. It would fit in well with your excursions. Plus, I mean, we could hold it in your winter so extra bonus for the kids right?” He grinned at her.

Hermione grinned back. “Yes! That would be fantastic.”

“Gough also has another surprise for you,” Chris continued with the air of a man on a Good News binge.

“Yes?”

“He got Severus’ entry ban overturned. We’ve decided to let him come back. Provided of course he keeps out of people’s minds.”

Hermione crowed ecstatically. “Brilliant! Brilliant!” She could hardly restrain herself and pummeled the table in excitement. 

Severus, walking to the left of Gough, could see a very excited Hermione talking to Chris. She was waving her hands around erratically, which generally meant she was thoroughly engaged in a conversation. Typically, he tended to be the other participant in the aforementioned conversation. She never seem to get as animated talking to Potter and Weasley, but who could blame her really. 

Severus decided it was odd to see her in full flight talking to someone else. He felt funny about it, although he wasn’t quite sure what was wrong, beyond an uneasy feeling that he wanted to be the one that made her laugh and knock cups over with her flailing arms. Not a handsome, blonde Australian with disturbingly thick biceps. As he neared their table, Chris obviously said something amusing as Hermione roared with laughter and immediately spilt her drink. He frowned. At that moment Hermione looked around and saw him. Her smile broadened and she pushed out her chair and practically bounced over to him. Severus felt himself relax slightly. That was _his_ smile, the one she saved for him.

“Hello!” Hermione said looking up at him. “All done?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Are you going to Hogwarts now?” 

“Yes,” he said a little uncomfortably.

Hermione reached out and grasped his right hand, squeezing it gently. “I hope everything goes all right, and going back there isn’t too, you know, awful,”

“I anticipate it being _very_ awful,” Severus answered. “But I do have to go back there.”

“I’ve just owled Draco to meet me here to discuss a great idea that Chris has just outlined to me. It’s really exciting, I’ll tell you about it later,” Hermione told him cheerily and he attempted an encouraging smile.

Severus decided he must not have passed the correct message to his facial messages as she looked a bit crestfallen at his expression.

“Oh, um, if you are coming back home that is. I mean, if it is going to be really bad, do you need some space? I can go visit the boys if you’d like,” Hermione babbled at him.

_You are an idiot,_ Severus admonished himself. He obviously couldn’t trust his face to do anything helpful in the current situation. His hands, however. He lifted them and drew her towards him. 

“I’ll be fine,” he lied. “I’ll see you at home later.” 

In direct contradiction to his years of wrathfully stripping House points from miscreants indulging in public displays of affection, and right in the middle of the busy atrium he bent down and kissed her. She wriggled delightfully closer to him, and sighed a small, soft sigh as she responded very agreeably to his lips. He lifted his head from hers, noting she’d turned quite a fetching shade across her cheeks. Severus allowed himself a smug smile. 

“Yes. Later,” Hermione repeated, and she was smiling again. 

Severus held that smile in his mind as he arrived at the gates of the familiar castle. A dark oppressive malaise threatened to creep up on him but he pushed it away. He watched the figure of Filius approaching down the path. Severus could feel the wards wouldn’t deny him entry, but instead he waited for the escort. Hogwarts wasn’t going anywhere. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Sorry for delay I’m also trying to write my story for the SSHG Giftfest but I don’t want anyone to think I’ve given up finishing this one!
> 
> So we had a bit of Hermione POV. They’re both a big insecure but hopefully they’ll work it out right?
> 
> Also, anyone who has read my other stories will know I write an affable Ron. Surprise to any new readers! :)


	34. Old friends

The Headmasters office was undoubtedly furnished very differently since the last time Severus had seen it, however the portraits on the walls, the Pensieve in the corner and the grand desk in the centre of the room were all the same. Filius had obviously attempted to brighten the room up with a cerulean blue rug on the floor and there was a glorious flower arrangement on an exquisitely delicate side table that looked like a recent addition. The room felt like Filius. Warm, friendly and welcoming. 

“Tea?” Filius offered and it appeared before them, completely with a steaming pot and the shortbread Severus used to like when he lived in the castle.

Severus looked down at it and a sickening déjà vu crept over him. It was the same tea-set Dumbledore had used...the same set _he_ had used as Headmaster. 

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. 

Filius poured two cups and began to speak without looking up. “I am glad you came to see me Severus. I wanted to...that is, I wished to visit you but I wasn’t exactly sure how welcome I would be.”

“I hold nothing against anyone from that time Filius,” said Severus uncomfortably. “In any case, it has long passed.”

“Nevertheless,” Filius continued, handing a cup to Severus, “after your death, well, perceived death as it were, we were all fully appraised of the events. It was difficult to hear, knowing what you’d endured, and how we’d treated you...” he trailed off and sipped his tea.

Severus also sipped his tea, mostly as a distraction from his thoughts. He organised to come to Hogwarts to get something specific, not to take part in a soul-searching waltz down memory-lane. Furthermore, everyone from that time wanted something from him, some panacea that they felt he could offer to free them from their own feelings of guilt. He paused, no, not everyone. Not Hermione and for some inexplicable reason, not Potter or Weasley. But he found it exhausting to be the one continually expected to pat the others on the head and offer them the absolution they desired.

_There, there. What you did was fine. You are a good person. You did the right thing._

He didn’t necessarily disagree with it, but he thought people should own their behaviours. They acted in the manner they thought was right based on the information available to them at the time. What more could anyone one expect of themselves?

“I was wondering,” Severus said, avoiding the hippogriff in the room, “whether any of the furniture in the Headmaster’s chambers is still the same?”

“Ah, the warded drawer?” Filius chuckled.

Severus nodded in relief. _Yes. The warded drawer._

“We all tried to remove the ward. Myself, Minerva, Horace. We even called in Charlie Weasley. It is a very impressive protection Severus,” Filius smiled, “I’d like to learn your modification.”

“Modification _and_ intent,” Severus answered. “I had a strong desire to keep those items well hidden.”

“Well, you are more than welcome to retrieve your possessions. I shall wait here and avail myself of more of this delicious shortbread,” Filius said.

Severus made his way into the chamber. Like the other room Filius had changed the decor to suit his tastes, which had softened the room somewhat. It felt far more welcoming to Severus than when he had attempted to sleep here years ago. Or perhaps it simply felt more welcoming as many of the pressing worries that had saturated this room, and invaded his thoughts no longer existed. 

Severus made his way to the drawer and cancelled the spell. He opened the drawer and saw all the objects in there, just as they had been more than six years ago. He took them out, one by one and shrunk them to fit in his pockets; the hat, the lion, the file and the watch. He paused as he removed the photograph and letter fragment. He looked down at Lilly’s laughing face and traced it gently with a finger. Her face, previously so dear to him, was now the face of the past. It had always been so, but he was really only now coming to that realisation. He sighed and pocketed the photograph and shard of parchment.

He carried the chess set back out with him. Filius looked at him, and at the set with a bemused expression.

“We never finished the game,” Severus explained, “perhaps if you have time now?”

Filius looked at the board, then back up at him and smiled with delight. “Yes. If I recall correctly I was winning.”

“I doubt it,” Severus scoffed and placed the board down.

They played in companionable silence for a few minutes until Filius coughed slightly.

“And how is, that is to say, is Miss...er,” Filius stumbled clumsily over the question he obviously had no idea how to phrase.

Severus felt his face growing hot with what he assumed was mortification. “Hermione is well,” he said tightly. 

This was exactly the last thing he wanted to discuss with any of his former colleagues. It was bad enough having to endure the suggestive ribbing from Minerva, and it reinforced his decision not to bring Hermione with him here. He didn’t think he could have walked through the halls with her by his side. He decided he had found something quite precious with her, but he also perceived it as fragile and he couldn’t bare to have it debased or ridiculed or besmirched or any other type of relevant synonym.

“Ah, excellent, excellent. Such a clever witch, and her current work with young Mister Malfoy will be a great asset to Hogwarts,” Filius said warmly.

“Yes,” Severus said. 

A few more minutes ticked by as they both studied the board between them.

“I was glad to hear you are happy,” Filius commented and Severus looked up. He saw no mockery in the man’s expression.

“I am,” Severus answered truthfully. 

“Well then,” said Filius, “you’ll need to come back and visit for another game. As I’m afraid I’ve won this one.”

Severus looked down. He had indeed.

“I should be leaving,” Severus said reluctantly, “might I have a moment with the portraits?”

Filius nodded understandingly. “I imagine you and Albus have some catching up to do.”

“Yes,” lied Severus, who had approximately zero amount of interest in catching up with Dumbledore.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Filius informed him, “just see me at the bottom of the staircase once you’ve finished.”

Severus watched Filius leave the room before he turned towards the wall of former Headmasters.

“Severus, well done, my boy,” began Albus from his frame, still perfecting the twinkling-eyed, grandfatherly expression. Severus completely ignored him. He thought perhaps one day in the future he could see himself pursuing a conversation with Dumbledore, but he wasn’t ready at this point in time. 

“It is good to see you alive,” commented Armando peering at him, “and looking so well!”

“As you can see nothing has changed here,” Dilys added, “and largely because of you, Headmaster.”

“I think you’ll find our valiant Headmaster had _some_ help,” an oily voice interrupted them. 

“Phineas,” Severus greeted the portrait.

He turned to the severe, unmoving presence in the frame to Phineas’ left.

“Wake up,” he commanded.

The portrait blinked lazily and turned its eyes towards him.

“Still alive then?” It asked.

“Unfortunately for you,” Severus said.

“No matter. No one lives forever,” it said, sneering at him. 

Severus held back a retort. His portrait was exactly as unpleasant as he remembered.

“Don’t be in such a hurry to be a face on the wall,” snapped Dilys.

“Oh, it has its benefits,” said Phineas airily.

“Enjoying the Science Museum are we?” Severus asked and Phineas started in surprise. He turned to face at Severus and narrowed his eyes.

Phineas’ portrait looked at him shrewdly. “Well, well, Headmaster. You’ve been spending time with the incorrigible Miss Granger. She was supposed to—“

“What exactly _type_ of time have we been spending with our student?” His portrait interrupted with a nasty, suspicious tone. Phineas shot it a dark look which surprised Severus. It seemed that Phineas had apparently developed quite the soft spot for Hermione. She certainly had a way with unpleasant Slytherin men. 

“I don’t have students anymore,” retorted Severus. “I’m no longer Headmaster.”

The portrait of himself looked confused.

“The Dark Lord was defeated by Potter almost seven years ago,” Severus explained.

“Well, you’ve certainly taken your time to update me,” the portrait said testily.

“I was in Azkaban for almost six of those years,” Severus pointed out. “It was difficult to pop out for a quick tête-à-tête with my magical picture.”

The portrait stared at him blankly. Severus hated its severe, pale face and the strange, blank, dark eyes. It was a picture of himself how he was, but not how he wanted to be. 

“Six years in Azkaban? How delightful! It was already a rare gift to have the opportunity to hear details of our idyllic childhood and halcyon days at Hogwarts. However, I dare say that those tales of wonder will be eclipsed by this latest experience,” it said.

“I was tortured quite regularly if that helps,” Severus said baldly.

“And tortured as well? My, my. We _have_ lived a fulsome life,” his portrait replied sarcastically. 

“Just lucky I guess,” Severus shrugged.

The portrait eyed him critically. “Are you....we...coming back to Hogwarts?” It asked.

Severus shook his head. “No.”

“Shame,” said Phineas. “Headmaster Flitwick doesn’t have the same, well, air about him.”

“I like him,” said Dilys. “He’s inclusive.”

“Hiring a centaur and werewolf is dangerous, not inclusive,” Phineas fired back.

“Oh, they didn’t hire Lupin again did they?” Severus’ portrait asked with a curled lip.

“Lupin is dead,” Severus said. “He and his wife died during the battle, in defence of Hogwarts.”

The portrait sat back, its face blank. “So,” it said thoughtfully, “We outlived them all.”

Severus looked up at the frame, and was slightly nauseated to see a brief, triumphant smile cross its face.

“Sleep,” he ordered when he couldn’t bear it anymore.

He bid the other portraits farewell, including a brief exchange with Dumbledore which he barely remembered. He then walked down the stairs to meet Filius, who was waiting patiently for him. 

“I sent the other teachers away when you said you were coming,” Filius said as they walked through the deserted corridors toward the grand entrance. “I thought you may not be ready to see them yet. Some are new, but we still have Sybil, Aurora, Pamona, Hagrid and Poppy.”

“Thank you,” said Severus. “Perhaps I shall come back again when everyone is here.”

“They would like that,” Filius said.

They had reached the entrance and walked out under the soaring arches and past the gleaming marble wall that flickered with the names of those that had been killed during the battle. Severus stopped at it briefly and watched some of the names flash in and out.

_Colin Creevey...Lavender Brown...Remus Lupin...Nymphadora Tonks...Fred Weasley...Severus Snape..._

Severus turned away. 

“Yes, I should probably fix that,” Filius commented.

Severus thought about the items in his pocket and whether they were worth this whole experience.

“Severus, it was good to see you again. I hope you will come to visit us another time,” Filius said and offered his hand.

Severus reached out his own and Filius clasped it affectionately. Severus thought the man’s eyes were a little moist.

“Thank you for saving me,” he said. “And please also pass on my gratitude to Sybil.”

Filius’ eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t think you’d...I see. Well. Yes. You are most welcome my friend.” He tightened his grip on Severus’ hand and brought across his other had to join it.

Severus was beginning to feel slightly awkward. There were definite tears in Filius’ eyes now.

“I apologise. I must go. I have another appointment,” Severus finally said.

“Yes, of course.” Filius released him. “I will see you again soon?”

“Yes,” Severus said. He turned and began to walk away.

“Bring Miss....er Hermione next time!” Filius called after him and Severus winced.

His next stop was a very pretty detached house on the outskirts of London. The front of the house was covered in climbing roses, which gave it a wild, tangled appearance. Severus noticed it had been painted recently and he could smell baked bread as he climbed the steps to knock on the door.

The woman who answered it looked shocked when she saw who her visitor was. Her brown eyes flicked over his appearance.

“Hello Andromeda,” he said.

“Severus Snape. They did say you weren’t dead,” Andromeda drawled.

“Surprised?” Severus asked. 

Andromeda leant her head to the side to study him, and even with her hair a light brown instead of black, she looked momentarily strikingly like Bellatrix.

“No,” she said. “I always knew your talent was in survival.” 

Severus wasn’t quite sure whether she was insulting him or not.

“I have something for you,” he said.

“You’d better come in then.” She opened the door and he entered the hall.

He waited briefly then followed her along a hallway where Nymphadora stuck her tongue out at him from numerous photographs. The picture at the end of the hall was one of her cradling a baby and looking up adoringly at Lupin, who smiled back down at her. They looked happy. He supposed they had been.

Andromeda led him into a small lounge room. He sat on a couch, and on the wall in front of him in a huge frame Edward Tonks picked up his wife and twirled her around dizzily, and they both laughed as he nearly dropped her. Severus pondered using his occlumency shields but decided against it. He was trying to get better at managing difficult emotions.

Andromeda sat in the armchair to his right and two squat glasses floated in from another room. 

“Gin and tonic,” she said. “It seemed like we both might need it.”

Severus nodded as one of the glasses settled in front of him. He reached into his pocket and took out the shrunken watch. He enlarged it and placed it on the table in front of Andromeda.

“I wanted you to have this. I thought that you could give it to your grandson,” he said. 

Andromeda reached forward and picked up the watch, turning it over and tracing the engraving on the back.

“Were you there when he died?” She asked in a thick voice.

“Yes, but I didn’t kill him. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” Severus said helplessly.

“I bet he gave them a good scare,” Andromeda said. Severus watched as she brushed away a tear.

“Yes,” Severus said. “He saved a boy. One of Potter’s friends.”

“Of course he did,” Andromeda laughed, but then it turned into a sob. “Of course he did.” 

Severus took a long swallow of his drink while Andromeda composed herself.

“Do you see Narcissa at all?” He asked, knowing that they had previously been estranged since Andromeda married Edward.

“We have spoken. I’m not on the Manor dinner party invite, but, yes, we have seen each other,” Andromeda said.

He nodded, not sure what to say. He hadn’t seen Lucius or Narcissa since before Azkaban. He hadn’t spent any time alone with Draco, although he visited Spinner’s End frequently to work with Hermione. Severus didn’t know what to say to him either and Draco acted towards him with unsettling deference.

“Harry is here a lot, to visit Teddy.” Andromeda said. “His godson.”

“That’s good,” commented Severus, pretending to care.

He had reached his limit of forced personal interaction for the day and was exhausted. He just wanted to go home and sit quietly with Hermione. He never felt she wanted him to be something other than himself, so he could relax there. He drank more of the gin in case it would help. It helped somewhat.

“I remember that look,” observed Andromeda with a wry smile. “You want to leave.”

“Yes,” Severus said. 

“Will you say hello to Teddy before you leave?” She asked, and Severus felt he couldn’t refuse.

He was introduced to a young boy with blue hair who looked very much like Lupin. Severus, who was introduced to Teddy as ‘a friend of your father’, found himself shaking the hand of the boy.

“Pleased to meet you,” Teddy said seriously.

“Likewise,” said Severus just as seriously and the boy grinned at him with Nymphadora’s smile.

By the time he had been led back to the door and embraced by Andromeda who whispered an emotional ‘Thank you’ into his ear, Severus was worried he wouldn’t have the energy to Apparate home.

Thankfully he was wrong and he made it back to his house with all extremities intact. Spinner’s End smelt wonderful. Severus decided that he rather liked coming home to somewhere that smelt like that.

“Severus!” He heard Hermione call from the kitchen. “I’ve successfully made paella and it tastes amazing!” Despite his fatigue he couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on his face at the enthusiasm in her voice.

He entered the kitchen where he briefly stalled. Her appearance had unexpectedly changed and the shock must have shown on his face. 

“Oh, yes. I cut my hair,” Hermione said and touched her curls self-consciously. Her hair, which previously went past her shoulders, now only just reached the line of her jaw. “I thought...well, I thought it would help if I changed it. I mean, I’ve worn it long since school.”

Severus understood her gesture immediately. She wanted to make it easier for him to separate her from her schoolgirl identity. He suddenly realised that he loved her. He loved her and wanted her to know it.

“You look beautiful,” he said and she looked surprised at his comment. He rarely said out loud anything he felt about her, preferring to hide behind their normal, playful and teasing banter.

“Thank you!” She said, smiling broadly. “How was Hogwarts?”

“Filius says hello,” Severus said, moving forward and gathering her into his arms.

“He’d be an excellent Headmaster,” Hermione said.

“Indeed,” Severus said. “I missed you,” he said impulsively.

“I missed you too,” Hermione replied, obviously deciding to take this new candid Severus in her stride. She looked up into his face searchingly before coming to an unknown decision.

“Why don’t we sit for a bit before dinner? The new Potions journal has turned up and I’m up to a particularly gripping paragraph in Draco’s and my Hogwarts contract.”

“I’d like that,” he said, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure the portraits can’t really be like the person, but they are given the experiences. So I figured Snape’s portrait has been given all the horrid experiences, but doesn’t have the requisite gentle part of him and hence he’s the nasty person that Snape could easily have been...inside and out.


	35. Endless possibilities

Life was a lot noisier post-Azkaban.

“I must say that his wand work was _excellent_ ,” Minerva commented airily.

“Thin and flexible and responds to a firm grip?” Asked Poppy.

“More like an oak branch,” said Minerva. “Short and thick with a knobbly end.”

The three witches screamed with laughter as Severus kept studying his cards.

“Needless to say it was a satisfactory diplomatic liaison,” Minerva finished and sipped her whiskey with a broad grin.

Minerva had visited Severus unexpectedly two weeks after the great Pensieve immersion adventure. She hadn’t mentioned anything about it, but had brought a bottle of lethal dark liquid she insisted was whiskey and some cards. Extra Awkward Minerva had sat down with him and they’d played cards until she was Awkward Minerva, then finally only Minerva was left. 

He’d missed her. 

He’d told the back of Hermione’s neck about it as they lay in bed that night. 

“She missed you too. That’s why she came over,” she’d said. 

Severus had tightened his arms around her. He liked holding her like that. Navigating the complex currents of the social ocean that was Feelings Of People could be confusing. He wondered if the years of spying and being exactly who he needed to be for a milieu of different people had exhausted his lifetime’s amount of empathy. And that was why now relatively basic interactions could seem insurmountable. 

Hermione was a solid lighthouse within the maelstrom of uncertainty. He knew when he tightened his hold she’d react with a soft laugh and would wriggle back into him. Just like he knew that when he was grumpy at her, she’d point to the “Don’t be an arse” rule she’d stuck to the fridge and walk off to read a book until he calmed down. Conversely, he only needed to direct her attention to the “Respect” rule he added under it on the rare occasion she was being painfully supercilious and she’d blush, look rueful and his Hermione would be back.

It worked.

 _They_ worked. He had no idea how or why but they did.

After that first, strange evening of cards; Minerva, Poppy and Hooch had bestowed upon Severus the title of “honourary witch” and subsequently moved their monthly poker night to Spinner’s End. The nights seemed to be less about poker and more about drinking, increasingly dirty jokes and plotting the downfall of the patriarchy. Severus was particularly good at plotting, and was getting a lot better at the dirty jokes. He wasn’t quite sure what else they wanted him there for, but they turned up on the dot every time with whiskey, phallic cigars and absolutely no fucks. He thoroughly enjoyed it.

“I’m sure no one has issues with _your_ wand Snape,” said Hooch to the table in general and clapped him hard on the back. 

“I think I read a Daily Prophet article which indicated a _lot_ of interest in it,” said Poppy, sucking on a cigar and winking lecherously at him.

“You are all completely hopeless at distraction,” said Severus. “I call.” 

He was quite smug behind his blank facade. He won, of course. As always.

He’d figured fairly quickly the evenings really had little to do with winning, and more to do with everything and anything but poker. They always returned the money to the tin at the end of the night which then sat on Severus’ shelf until the next poker night.

He didn’t cheat as outrageously as the others, but occlumency was sort of cheating, and he used it most of the evening. Sometimes he needed it to hide his nerves. Outsmarting psychopathic power-mad wizards was one thing, Minerva and company were another entirely. He’d never felt so underprepared in his life.

Witches in their prime, he’d decided after the first poker night, were fearsome things. He already found Hermione a little bit intimidating, and he assumed he’d be terrified of her if they were still together in ten years. His mind wavered a little on that idea but he stayed firm to it. If he thought it hard enough, then perhaps it would happen. 

“A wand in the hand....” sighed Poppy as she dropped her cards on the table.

“Is worth two up the bush,” quipped Minerva and of course that sent them all off again. 

This was why, Severus thought, poker nights lasted nearly four hours and yet very few games were actually played.

“Wands are _very_ overrated,” stated Hooch. 

“Says the witch who loves nothing more than a good, hard, broom between her legs,” Poppy said loftily, dealing the next hand.

“I like the friction,” admitted Hooch. “It’s stimulating.” 

Severus was forced to take over dealer responsibilities as Poppy had to recover from her unrestrained snort and subsequent choking fit on a mouthful of whiskey. 

“What about it Severus?” Minerva asked, gesturing impatiently at the cards left to distribute.

“I’m quite partial to the friction as well,” he deadpanned.

And so the game was forced into hiatus once more.

When the evening had finally wound down to a natural end, the three forces of nature made noises about leaving, packed up the glasses and eradicated the smell of cigars. They left through the Floo Minerva had bullied him into joining. Well, Minerva and Poppy did in any case. Hooch paused by the hearth.

“How’s that Granger treating you?” She asked with a well-practiced air of nonchalance.

“Very well,” said Severus, amused slightly by the question. 

“Good,” said Hooch. “I’ve got my eye on her.”

“Do you?” He asked.

“I do,” Hooch replied airily. “And I’m the only one that she was ever intimidated by. Hated flying you see. Wasn’t very good at it,” she explained. “So I’m just an interested observer.”

Severus found himself touched by the stern look in her fierce, yellow eyes. He hadn’t expected it.

“It’s always good to have an independent referee,” he said seriously.

She grinned. “Exactly. See you next game Snape.” And she was gone in the green flames.

Severus watched the empty hearth for a while. He felt strangely teary. It was probably lingering cigar smoke.

Hermione tended to go out on poker nights, either with Potter and Weasley or with Draco, and one spectacular night with all three. Severus had to double the strength of the hangover potion before she could get out of bed. Apparently the boys couldn’t eat for two days.

He was thinking about her and when she’d return home, when the Floo flared and Hermione stumbled out into his arms.

“Oh! Just who I was thinking about,” she smiled and pushed herself up on her toes and captured his mouth with hers.

Severus clasped her to him and tried to tell her with the kiss that she’d pulled him back into life, into a life he’d never imagined he could have.

She leant back, pinked and a bit breathless from his attentions. “Well I don’t know whether to be grateful or scared those witches warmed you up for me,”

“A little of both I’d suggest,” Severus said. “Hooch was exulting the pleasure of broom friction.”

“Mmmm, you don’t have to tell me. It was the only thing I actually _liked_ about flying lessons,” she said, then immediately broke into giggles at his expression.

“I shall never doubt Hooch again,” Severus said in wonderment.

Hermione curled her fingers into his hair. “Draco and I have a potential new contact to interview tomorrow. Do you need anything in Diagon?”

“No thank you,” said Severus. “I might do a bit of brewing. You decimated our stores if you remember,” he added.

“Ugh yes. Never again. Those naughty boys. They’re a terrible influence,” Hermione said innocently.

“Yes. _They’re_ the bad influence in the equation,” Severus said affectionately.

“Just an innocent lamb, led astray,” Hermione continued, and Severus decided she should be punished immediately for her cheek by a thorough exploitation of her previously established ticklish spots.

After said punishment, there was, of course, a period of reparations. These were always relocated to the bedroom because Severus had discovered through trial and error that wooden floors and staircases were the domain of younger men who hadn’t been tortured on and off over the course of many years. Hermione had never appeared disappointed, Severus told himself smugly. Although, in saying that, she seemed equally satisfied by sitting next to him and reading a good book. However, knowing how she felt about books made Severus think he obviously was doing _something_ right.

On other weeks between poker evenings Severus generally found himself back at Hogwarts playing chess with Filius. 

He’d delayed their latest match by a day in order to complete his brewing, and he was just sitting down after finishing cleaning the final cauldron when he heard Potter calling through the Floo.

“Oi ‘Mione are you there? I’ve got your thingy!”

Severus groaned quietly and decided playing dead was his best option.

“Maybe she’s asleep. Hey! ‘Mione!” Severus could hear Weasley shouting as well.

“Oh Merlin you don’t think she’s... _you know_...with Snape?” Potters voice, tinged with horror, asked.

“Probably. If I was Snape I wouldn’t let her get out of bed,” commented Weasley which was approximately when Severus has decided he’d heard enough.

“No one’s home!” He shouted back through the Floo.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Snape! Hey, let us through, Charlie’s sent a box for you!” Weasley cajoled.

 _Cocktwaddle_ , thought Severus. He sighed. ”Fine, I’ll open it for you.”

The hearth flared green and Potter and Weasley came tumbling through. 

“Here you go Snape,” said Weasley brightly. “Special delivery from Charlie.”

He handed the box to Severus who opened it suspiciously. It was full of dragon claws, scales and what looked like at least one tooth.

Weasley craned his neck over to look in the box as well. “He’s been collecting anything they shed for ages. Thought you might like it, for potions or whatever.”

“It is very generous of your brother,” said Severus. “He could have sold these for quite a few galleons.”

“Well, you’re like family now aren’t you?” said Weasley casually as he walked over to check the contents of the fridge. 

“Er,” was all Severus could say. Was he? When did _that_ happen?

“Ron, stop stealing their food!” Potter ordered and Weasley reluctantly returned the plate of chicken.

“Potter,” greeted Severus with some civility and he was immediately proud of how well he’d done in the attempt.

“Snape,” said Potter with an equally impressive effort.

“Brrrr, you guys still have some warming up to do,” observed Weasley as he took a bite of the pastry he’d somehow managed to locate from where Hermione had hidden them.

“Shut up Ron,” said Potter.

“There. You see Potter? We _can_ agree on some things,” said Severus with a smirk. Potter relaxed and grinned at him and Ron rolled his eyes.

Severus was rescued from any future interactions by the appearance of Hermione and Draco through the Floo. Hermione lit up when she saw the boys but went to Severus first and kissed him hello. Severus took a moment to savour it, mostly because he enjoyed it, but partially because it obviously was making Draco and the other two uncomfortable.

“I brought over the, you know, the thing you wanted,” said Potter, studiously avoiding looking at them. This was fun, thought Severus, running a hand down her back towards the curve of her arse. Weasley appeared completely unaffected, but Draco and Potter were another matter entirely.

Hermione withdrew from him and strode over to Potter. “Really? I didn’t expect—that’s fantastic!” She exclaimed.

Severus watched with some interest as Potter palmed something from his pocket and passed it almost, but not quite, surreptitiously to Hermione.

“It wasn’t fun,” said Potter. “But I figured it was part-payment for services rendered.”

Hermione hugged him, then turned toward Severus, Draco and Weasley. “Well, I have something at the Ministry,” she said abruptly. “I’ll be back later.”

And before Severus could utter one word she was gone in the Floo.

“That was weird, right?” Asked Weasley. 

“It’s fine, it’s something she asked me to get. You know Hermione, she’s always got something on the go,” said Potter firmly.

Weasley shrugged, but Severus was suspicious. He was going to leverage the lingering levels of intimidation he still held over Potter to wrangle the truth out of him. Potter, who obviously picked up on these signals, grabbed Weasley and dashed out the Floo with a rushed goodbye.

“Well,” drawled Draco. “They’re still annoying.”

“Try living with them,” Severus said.

Draco fidgeted briefly then reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thin, glossy booklet. “We were meeting with someone at West End, to get a bit of live theatre into our program. Do you remember Justin Finch-Fletchly?” He asked.

“Yes,” said Severus.

“He asked if we had contact with you. Of course we said yes, though I didn’t detail Hermione’s level of contact,” leered Draco.

“How kind of you to show restraint on my private life,” said Severus dryly.

“Anyway he asked us to pass this on to you,” Draco handed Severus the booklet.

He turned it over in his hands to find it was a playbill for ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf?’. He opened it. Justin was playing the character Nick.

“Ah,” Severus said. 

Draco peered at the bill. “We’re going to take them to some shows, then backstage with the cast. Justin said that if they started up the Muggle extension classes back up at Hogwarts and you agreed to read at them, he’d come to them as well.”

Severus frowned. “And are they starting up the classes?”

Draco shrugged. “Hermione got a bit teary about it when she heard about them. So I’d say they can expect some passionate and endless campaigning.”

Severus smiled crookedly. “Yes, she can be tenacious,” he said fondly.

Draco looked at him for a minute. “You really like her,” he said.

The room suddenly felt constricting, Severus returned the stare but didn’t answer. He hadn’t got to this point in his life without retaining a healthy suspicion for the multi-faceted and often nefarious motivations of a Malfoy. 

Draco flushed under the scrutiny. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Merlin, _I_ like her and I hardly like anyone.”

“I’m sure you do,” Severus commented smoothly.

“Do you think you’d consider visiting Mother and Father?” Draco asked, swerving the conversation to an even more dicey topic.

“Perhaps. If they would welcome it,” Severus commented neutrally.

“I went and met my cousin,” Draco commented. “Potter took me last week.”

“He looks like his parents,” Severus said.

“Yes, Aunt Andromeda said you’d visited. And I thought if you went there, why hadn’t you come to see me?” Draco asked. His voice had the same sad, lost tone that Severus remembered from the bad old days. Back when he’d tried to divert Draco from the same path Lucius had coaxed Severus himself down, many years before. 

“There are two reasons,” began Severus. “I did not wish to burden you with a relationship that kept you anchored to a past you may wish to forget.”

“That’s fair,” commented Draco.

“The second reason is also why I have not been to see your parents. I am not the man any of you thought I was. Your whole perception of me, and recent ones from your parents, is built on duplicity. I was not certain that you would wish to continue any type of association with me,” Severus explained.

“But you always _were_ who I thought,” said Draco, sounding confused. “I thought you cared about me, and tried to look after me.”

“I did,” Severus said.

“Well, then there was no duplicity,” said Draco. “Only survival.”

Severus rubbed his forehead. “In any case,” he said tiredly. “I can’t imagine they’d approve of my current situation, and I won’t countenance anyone denigrating her.”

Draco walked over to the hearth and pretended to look at the unmoving photograph of Hermione’s parents hanging on the wall. “You’ve been away a long time now, they’ve mellowed a bit. Mother shows every indication of liking her. With Father it’s more complicated.”

“It always is,” huffed Severus.

“Would you come to the Manor if they invited you?”

“Perhaps,” said Severus.

Draco laughed. “Well, you haven’t changed at all have you, Sir? Still keeping things close to the chest.”

“I’m not Sir anymore,” corrected Severus, “and old habits are hard to break.”

“Yes,” agreed Draco. 

Everyone had become Extra Awkward these days, mused Severus. And did he have enough energy to accompany them back to comfort, when he often felt so uncomfortable with people? Draco seemed more at ease by the time Severus farewelled him through the Floo, however he still danced around making any promises to catch up with Lucius and Narcissa. Draco seemed content just to have raised the question.

It wasn’t as if he and Hermione _had_ to do everything together, after all she never attended a poker night. But she would happily would if he’d ask. Similarly he had endured dinners with Weasley and Potter because it made her happy. He could not ask her to accompany him to the Manor. He closed his eyes and could again see her clawing at the air as Bellatrix cursed her. He remembered the carpet Narcissa had thrown out because it had been stained by Hermione as her abused body had given up under the onslaught of agony. _No._ He would not ask that of her. Maybe he’d rewatch the memory of Lucius falling backwards over the chair instead.

It was late when Hermione returned home. Severus had made dinner, but kept it under stasis for them and just was drinking a wine and reading when she came back through the Floo.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” she said.

“That’s fine,” he said. “How was the Ministry?”

Hermione walked up to him and perched on the side of the armchair he was sitting in. “Good,” she said. 

“Unusual for the Ministry,” smiled Severus. He desperately wanted to ask what she went there for.

“I made you something,” Hermione said and thrust a thin, rectangular package into his hands.

He looked up at her face. She was very nervous. He undid the paper wrapping to reveal a photograph. 

It was his mother.

Correction.

It was _him_ and his mother. 

He was about fourteen or so in the image. He couldn’t even remember it, but he was walking with his mother, carrying what looked like a paltry amount of groceries in a paper bag. In the small moment in time the photograph had captured, he had looked up at his mother and said something. It had obviously pleased her as she’d roared with silent laughter, placing a hand on his shoulder. His teenage self had grinned, then looked up her and said something to which she laughed, and on and on and on. 

He stared at the photograph. It must have been during one of Tobias’ ‘charming’ phases. They were brief but memorable. His mother bloomed during these times; which became shorter and less frequent as he grew up, until they finally stopped altogether. He watched her face light up, her laugh, the hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up at Hermione. “Where did you get this from?”

“It’s something the Ministry has been working on for a while. Evidentiary collection from memories. Arthur Weasley was developing it. He was happy to help,” Hermione said.

“The memory?” Severus asked, looking down again. His mother laughed, put her hand on his shoulders.

“Well. Yes. The memory,” she wriggled on the chair slightly. “Harry got it for me. From his aunt.”

“Petunia?” He asked skeptically.

“Yes! Apparently they didn’t live far from you. I thought she was such a noisy bint she would definitely had seen you and your mum at some point. And Harry is pretty good at getting memories now, they do quite a bit of training for his job.”

“Hermione, I—“ Severus looked up at her, unsure how to proceed. She looked very pale.

“I thought we could put it up next to mine,” Hermione said, pointing at the unmoving photo of her own parents on the opposite wall.

“It’s wonderful,” he said. She relaxed visibly.

He stood and walked across the room towards the hearth. He lifted up the frame and fixed it next to Hermione’s photo. He felt Hermione tuck under his arm and lean into his chest.

“That looks nice there,” she said. There was a pause while she studied the photograph. “You look like your mum.”

“The nose _is_ distinctive,” Severus said tartly.

Hermione jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “Not _just_ the nose,” she insisted. “You laugh like she does.”

Severus looked at the photograph again. He supposed she was right. After all, besides his mother, Hermione had probably seen him laugh more than anyone in his life. 

“She would have liked you I think,” he said thoughtfully and she made a small, pleased noise.

“She would have liked me because she’d have seen that I love you and want you to be happy. Mums like to know their son’s heart is in good hands,” Hermione answered.

“You, er, you love me?” Severus asked, deciding not to look at her in case she was teasing.

“Of course I do! I thought it was obvious. Since it’s not, well, then, I shall tell you all the time,” she nuzzled into him.

Severus felt like his pulse was going a thousand beats a minute. He realised the next moment was very important. “I love you too,” he said quickly, feeling like it was best done quickly, like putting back a dislocated joint. 

She repeated the pleased noise and tucked an arm more firmly around him. He felt he’d completed a marathon climb. He was relieved that he’d released those words, and they weren’t spat back at him in disgust, and the world didn’t end.

“What happens now?” He asked.

“I thought perhaps some type of celebratory foot rub?” Suggested Hermione.

He smiled down at her beatifically. “I’d love one, thank you.” 

She laughed, and tugged him away from the hearth. “Come on, dinner first before I lay one finger on your gross feet.”

“Gross?” He asked indignantly.

“Did I say gross? I meant _great_ ,” she teased, rubbing his arm soothingly.

Later they lay entwined in their bed, foot rubs forgotten. Hermione was stroking his hair the way he liked, while he listened to her heart beating steadily under her shirt.

“Do you think we can work? Can it work?” Severus asked softly.

“I don’t see why not. Other people can and we’re a lot smarter than them,” Hermione retorted.

Severus snorted a laugh back. “And don’t forget humble.”

“Exactly. Far more humble.” She giggled.

Severus smiled in the dark as her chest rumbled under his cheek. He could believe anything in the safety of this room. Unending love...undiluted happiness...everything was possible and anything was plausible.

“Oh, I unpacked a box of yours,” Hermione said.

“Thank you,” he said absentmindedly, not really remembering what box he’d left out.

“Slytherin sucks!” Shouted a very familiar voice.

“Hermione,” Severus growled.

She was laughing so hard she could hardly speak. 

“Hermione!” He repeated, sitting up slightly.

“Yes?” She asked innocently.

“Where is that bloody lion?” He demanded.

“On your dresser. I like it,” she was still stifling her laughs.

He softened and lay back down on her. He could put up with the lion, after all, with such softness cradling him close. It was love. That’s what Hermione had said. She loved _him_.

“I can hear you thinking,” she said, and he felt her bend over and her breath ghost his ear. “I love you, even if Slytherins _do_ suck.”

He laughed. 

Everything was possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah my friends. We’ve reached the end. I thank each and every one of you who read along with me, and kept me buoyed with your amazing comments. 
> 
> I really hope you are satisfied with the end. :) it may be a bit soppy but I completely adore HEAs... 
> 
> I had such fun writing this, and I’m a bit sad to put my pen (so to speak) down on this one. Thanks again to the genesis of the idea to write the story of Op Mongoose (CT, Francine) and for then pursuing the rest of the Deathly Hallows timeline (MyWitch). 
> 
> Poker night inspired by this MyWitch comic [Ladies poker night](https://mywitch.livejournal.com/200108.html). :) 
> 
>  
> 
> Be kind to each other and keep smashing the patriachy.


End file.
